r 


CORRECTED   PROOFS, 


BY 


H.    HASTINGS    WELD. 


BOSTON: 

RUSSELL,    SHATTUCK    &    CO. 
1836. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1836,  by 

H  .    Hastings    Weld, 

In    the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District   of 
Massachusetts. 


W  sverle Y     Pr  ess. 
Alfred     Mudge,     Printer. 


TO  THE 

and  ^firte 
OF    THE    PERIODICALS    TO    WHICH 

HE     HAS      BEEN 

A    CONTRIBUTOR, 
THIS   VOLUME   IS   DEDICATED 

BY 

IP  IS  Si 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

IT  was  proposed  to  issue  this  work  upon  the  first  of 
January  last.  Unavoidably  delayed  a  few  days  after 
that  time,  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  hold  it  back  a 
month,  rather  than  publish  while  purchasers  and  book 
sellers  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  annual  literary 
surfeit. 


V 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  a  trite  saying  that  the  Preface  is  a  book- 
vvright's  horror — but  its  very  triteness  is  proof  of  its 
truth — and  that  truth  is  excuse  for  its  iteration  here. 
In  the  body  of  the  work,  the  Author  addresses  the 
world  generally — the  Preface  is  particularly  inscribed 
to  the  reader ; — writing  it  is  like  going  through  a  set 
form,  in  accordance  with  rules  of  etiquette — or  through 
a  difficult  concerted  piece,  where,  to  be  excellent,  is 
only  to  be  tolerable.  Any  thing  below  that  is  a 
lamentable  failure ;  any  thing  above  it  is  seldom 
attained. 

People  look  to  the  Preface  for  an  expose  of  the  views 
of  the  Author  in  publishing — but  it  is  not  one  in  a  hun 
dred  cases  that  they  find  it  there.  Self-esteem  gene 
rally  prompts  the  perpetration  of  a  book,  and  the  very 
organ  of  the  mind  which  induces  the  act,  leads  also  to 
a  concealment  of  the  motive.  But  the  world  all  see  it 
— particularly  where,  as  in  this  case,  there  is  no  ap 
parent  moral  end  to  be  gained — no  establishment  of  a 
new  theory,  or  refutation  of  an  old  one.  It  is  as 
useless,  therefore,  for  the  Author  to  deny,  on  his  part, 


8  PREFACE. 

that  he  holds  a  pretty  good  opinion  of  the  contents  of 
this  volume,  as  for  a  convicted  felon  to  persist  in  de 
claring  his  innocence.  He,  the  Author,  avows  then, 
that  he  thinks  the  matter  hereinafter  contained  well 
worthy  of  preservation.  If  the  judgment  of  the  public 
support  him,  well — if  not — he  will  be  in  a  glorious 
minority.  That's  all. 

The  Tales,  Sketches,  &c.  here  collected  and  offered 
to  the  public,  are  selections  from  the  contributions  of 
the  Author  to  different  periodicals  during  the  last  five 
years — principally,  however,  to  the  Boston  Galaxy,  and 
Boston  Pearl.  A  majority  of  them  have  received  such 
newspaper  sanction,  by  being  noticed  and  copied,  as 
strengthens  the  opinion  of  them  which  has  induced  this 
reprint.  There  is  also  mingled  with  his  Self-esteem 
(to  talk  Phrenologically,)  not  a  little  Acquisitiveness, 
and  some  Selfishness.  He  wishes  to  try  the  experi 
ment,  whether  a  transcript  of  them  from  the  places  in 
which  they  were  originally  published,  may  not  benefit 
himself,  as  well  as  others. 


CONTENTS. 


Love  and  Law        .          .         .          .         ;         ;         '.     *    .  11 

The  Bustling  Man          '.         .         ;         ;.;-..  26 

The  Partners           .         .         .         .      '    .         ;    "-.'       .  28 

Degrees  of  Drunkenness          ......  39 

A  Winter  in  Cedarville  .         .         .         .         .         .         .  41 

A  Pet  in  a  Pet         .         .         .         . '     '  I         .         '.         .  52 

The  Postscript         .          .          »     "     .          .          ."      '.      '    .'  58 

The  Old  Soldier    .         .         .      -.         ;      ".'"'.         .  60 

Bacchanalian  Song          .         .         .         .         .         .         .  64 

The  Martyr  to  Science   .         ...•;.         .         .         .  65 

The  Vaudois  Harvest  Hymn  .         .         .         . '      -.         .  76 

Easy  Joe  Bruce     ........  78 

The  Omnibus         .         .         .         .'..'.         t         .  82 

The  Independent  Beggar        .         .         '.                   .  88 

Epistle  to  Mr  Durant       .         .         .         '.'',".'        .  90 

Tar  Brush  Sketches— At  Sea           .....  92 

In  Callao  Harbor  ',  .  .  102 
In  Boston  Harbor  .  .  .135 
Land  Tacks  Aboard  .  .  .144 

A  Lament .         .  160 

Directions  to  Enable  a  Man  to  Practise  Medicine  Successfully  162 

My  Friend's  Story          .         .         .         .",'.'       V  165 
Quid  Pro  Quo       .         .         .         .         ,        '.    •     '.         .173 


10  CONTENTS. 

Modern  Degeneracy         .         .         .         .         .         .         .175 

Boots 179 

The  Mother  to  her  Infant         .         .         .         .  -       .         .186 

Wanderings  of  Peter  Peregrinate    .....       188 

Old  Kit  and  his  Daughters       .       .,         .r        .         .         .193 
Sir,  a  Secret  !  Most  Important !        ....         .         .       201 

A  Leaf  from  the  Life  of  a  Pedagogue      ....       207 

The  Maiden  Aunt 214 

Music  Mad 228 

The  Genius    .         .  f     .        .        .        .         .         .         .230 

Complaint  of  a  Smart  Fellow 239 

A  Vision .       244 

Mr  Timoris  Dumps        .......       249 

Confessions  of  a  Bashful  Man  .....       253 

Keep  Comfortable  .......        258 


PARAGRAPHS. 

Ennui .         .         .         .  25 

Retrospection          ........  59 

Autobiographies      . 75 

Sir  Hugh  Evans      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  77 

Double  Sense         ........  89 

To  be  Well  Bred    .         .         .         ....         .         .  185 

To  Avoid  Bombast 192 

Dreams           .         .         .         .         .     (    .  ,      .         .         .  213 

Books    .         .         .         .         .         .         .     '    .         .         .  222 

Stealth  .         .         .         ,                 t.         .,,      .,        «         •  238 

A  Saint  on  the  Lookout 243 

Parmenio        .         .         ,         «      •   «         .         •         •         .  252 


CORRECTED   PROOFS. 


LOVE    AND    LAW. 

What  benefit  can  children  be 

But  charges  and  disobedience  ?  What's  the 

Love  they  render,  at  one  and  twenty  years? 

"I  WON'T  !  I  won't!  I  won't!  I  tell  you,  and  it's  no 
use  talking.  He's  an  impudent,  obstinate  blockhead, 
and  I'll  kick  him  out,  just  so  sure  as  he  darkens  my 
door  again!  " 

"But  father!" 

"  But  what?  " 

"  You  know  it  is  not  a  twelvemonth,  since  he  saved 
your  house — " 

"  No  such  thing !  no  such  thing!  Every  thing  was 
doing  well  enough  !  every  body  was  running  with  water, 
as  fast  as  they  could,  and  I  was  directing  'em,  and  up 
comes  Mr  Burnet,  on  a  walk.  He  wouldn't  run,  if  the 
town  was  a-fire.  'Gentlemen,'  says  he,  as  if  that  was  a 
time  for  compliments — and  they  all  minded  him,  without 
taking  any  more  notice  of  me,  than  if  I  was  ravin'  mad. 
He  stopped  'era  all  from  running  too,  as  well  as  himself, 


12  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

and  planted  'em  all  along  in  rows,  like  Indian  corn — 
and—" 

"  Saved  your  house  by  his  coolness,  method,  and  reg 
ularity." 

"  Coolness  be  d — d!  Coolness  at  a  fire,  to  be  sure! 
A  pretty  pass  \ve  have  come  to,  when  a  man  sixty  years 
old,  who  has  been  selectman  ten  years,  and  representa 
tive  twice,  is  to  be  slighted  for  a  chicken  who  has  not 
moulted  his  first  coat  of  feathers  !  As  if  a  man  had  no 
interest  in  his  own  affairs,  and  could  not  have  his  say, 
when  his  own  house  was  burning!" 

"  You  owe  the  preservation  of  your  house  to  the  chick 
en,  nevertheless." 

"No  such  thing!  no  such  thing!  And  if  I  do,  I  had 
rather  it  had  burned  down,  than  that  he  should  have  the 
chance  to  boast  that  he  has.  And  you,  too,  eternally 
throwing  it  in  my  teeth — I'll  set  fire  to  it  myself — I'll  be 
hanged  if  I  don't!  " 

"  You'll  be  hanged  if  you  do,  father,  and  that  would 
be  very  unpleasant  to  every  body  except  your  friend, 
Mr  Giles." 

"  And  you — you'd  be  glad  of  it,  too.  I  should  be 
out  of  the  way  then,  and  you  might  marry  the  pettifog 
ging  scoundrel ! " 

"  You  know  he  hates  litigation.  Pettifogging  indeed  ! 
Did  he  not  settle  your  mill-stream  suit  against  Giles, 
without  inflicting  upon  you  the  irritation,  delay,  and 
cost  of  a  trial  ?  " 

"  There  you  come  again.  I  wish  he  had  been  drowned 
in  the  stream,  before  he  made  the  settlement.  I  hate 
Giles — and  meant  to  ruin  him.  You  knew  it — and 
Burnet  knew  it." 

"  He  recovered  the  damages  you  claimed." 


LOVEANDLAW.  13 

"  A  fig  for  the  damages !  I  told  him  to  chase  Giles — to 
hunt  him  to  the  poor-house, — and  what  does  he  do  but 
persuade  the  scamp  to  settle,  without  so  much  as  say 
ing  'sheriff!'  to  him.  If  he  saved  me  costs,  he  saved 
him  too, — when  I  would  willingly  have  thrown  away  five 
thousand  dollars,  to  see  Giles  at  work  on  the  road." 

"  Two  thousand  in  hand,  is  better  than  seven  thrown 
away." 

"  I  dare  say,  I  dare  say.  So  you  think — you  expect 
that  you  and  Mr  Burnet  will  be  a  thousand  better  off. 
But  you  sha'n't — I'll  disinherit  you — I'll  make  my  will 
— I'll  make  it  to-day — I'll  make  it  now." 

"  Shall  I  send  John  for  Mr  Burnet,  father  1  You  must 
have  a  lawyer,  you  know." 

This  was  the  climax.  Mary  Williams  had  vexed  her 
father  to  the  utmost  safe  extremity.  She  left  the  room, 
making  a  provokingly  dutiful  "  curtsy"  at  the  door.  The 
old  man  paced  the  floor,  in  an  agony  of  vexation. 

"  I'll  disown  her,  and  adopt  Black  Sal,  the  kitchen  girl 
— I'll  disinherit  her,  and  give  my  property  to  the  Colo 
nization  Society — I'll  never  speak  to  her  again — I'll 
turn  her  out  of  doors — I'll  go  this  very  instant  and  tell 
her — " 

"To  roastthat  pair  of  chickens,  or  boil  them,  papa?" 

Mary  icas  pretty — and  the  old  man  was  partially  dis 
armed  by  the  smiling  phiz  she  thrust  in  at  the  door ; — 
appeased  in  spite  of  himself,  for  he  was  proud  of  his 
daughter. 

"  Boil  them,  Mary.     I  won't,  till  after  dinner." 

"Won't  what,  father?" 

"  Begone!  you  undutiful  hussy." 

If  the  reader  is  a  daughter,  I  need  not  tell  her  that 
Mary  had  overheard  every  word  of  her  father's  angry 
2 


14  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

soliloquy, — if  he  be  a  father,  I  need  not  tell  him,  that, 
although  the  old  gentleman  tried  to  persuade  himself  he 
was  in  earnest,  his  threats  were  quite  as  likely  to  be  put 
into  execution,  as  the  comet  is  to  brush  away  this  world 
of  ours.  And  Mary  knew  it.  Such  skirmishes  between 
the  father  and  daughter  were  diurnally  repeated — things 
of  course,  like  the  encounters  between  Commodore 
Trunnion  and  Tom  Pipes.  There  was,  however,  this 
difference, — the  ex-nautical  belligerents  sparred  in  pub 
lic — Old  Williams  and  his  daughter  held  their  discus 
sions  in  private.  We  cannot  commend  the  conduct  of 
Mary  in  thus  harassing  her  father, — but  if  good  ever 
came  out  of  evil,  it  certainly  did  in  these  domestic  dif 
ferences.  As  a  thunder-storm  clears  and  purifies  the 
atmosphere,  so  the  air  of  their  afternoon  and  evening 
fire-sides  was  materially  improved  by  the  storms  of  the 
morning.  The  old  gentleman  sallied  out,  after  giving 
Mary  the  last  word,  which,  unlike  a  majority  of  her  sex, 
she  always  allowed  him,  and  was  invariably  in  good 
humor  at  dinner-time.  The  motto  of  the  afternoon,  in 
reference  to  the  altercation  of  the  morning,  was 

Oh  no!  we  never  mention  it — 

And  Father  Williams  suffered  himself  to  be  read  peace 
ably  to  sleep  in  his  arm-chair.  If,  upon  waking,  he 
should  even  discover  Burnet  in  the  room — a  thing,  by 
the  way,  of  no  unfrequent  occurrence — the  placid  feel 
ings  which  wait  upon  temperance  and  a  good  digestion 
had  hitherto  made  him  civil  to  his  daughter's  guest, — 
or  at  least  reserve  his  wrath,  to  be  poured  upon  Mary's 
head  the  next  day.  And,  like  a  dutiful  daughter,  we 
have  seen  how  she  endured  her  parent's  wayward 
humors.  Her  mother  had  been  dead  for  years,  and, 


LOVE      AND     LAW.  15 

but  for  the  manner  in  which  Mary  filled  her  place  in 
vexing  her  father,  she  would,  long  before,  have  been  an 
orphan.  True  it  was,  she  was  more  than  a  daughter 
to  him,  compelling  him  to  forget,  while  she  tormented 
him,  that  the  old  butt  of  his  caprices,  his  wife,  was  silent. 


With  subtle  cobweb  cheats, 
They've  stepped  in  the  law  like  nets, 
In  which,  when  once  they  are  embrangled, 
The  more  they  stir,  the  more  they're  tangled. 

We  have  seen  how  religiously  Mr  Williams  hated  a 
certain  person  with  whom  he  had  had  some  law  em- 
branglements  ;  and,  sooth  to  say,  his  aversion  had  good 
and  sufficient  grounds.  Giles  was  one  of  those  detestable 
animals  to  be  met  with  in  almost  every  community,  who 
are  never  happy  but  when  in  litigation.  Every  thought 
had  some  connexion  with  what  Blackstone  terms  the 
"  perfection  of  human  reason,"  but  it  was  only  upon  the 
imperfections  of  that  perfection  that  he  studied  to  per 
fect  himself — or  rather,  in  which  he  liked  to  dabble. 
Observe  it  when  you  will,  those  whose  names  are  oft- 
enest  found  with  a  "  vs."  added,  are  those  who  are  least 
acquainted  with  the  wholesome  and  necessary  enact 
ments  of  the  law.  Every  window  which  looked  upon 
any  part  of  Giles's  estate  was  darkened  with  a  dead 
wall, — the  branches  of  every  fruit  tree  which  overhung 
his  ground,  from  his  neighbors'  enclosures,  were  pluck 
ed  of  their  produce,  or  sawed  off  even  with  the  fence. 
To  look  upon  his  land  was  almost  a  trespass — to  step 
upon  it  quite  one.  He  knew  the  path  to  the  pound 
better  than  that  to  the  church — as  his  neighbors'  cattle 
could  witness.  No  contract  was  binding  with  him, 
unless  it  was  duly  signed,  witnessed  and  acknowledged. 


16  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

For  such  a  man,  our  friend  Williams,  quick  and  strong 
in  his  passions,  and  frank  to  bluntness,  could  entertain 
no  feelings  but  disgust  in  the  abstract, — when  he  found 
himself  actually  entangled  in  the  toils  of  the  wily  knave, 
he  was  furious. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  go  into  the  details  of  the  dispute 
— it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  Williams  was  clearly  in  the 
right,  and  Giles  as  clearly  in  the  wrong;  as  the  reader 
will  surmise  from  their  respective  characters.  The  lat 
ter  had  presumed  upon  the  known  dislike  of  the  former 
for  litigation — but  his  bold  attempt  at  villany  was  foiled 
by  the  anger  of  Williams,  who  immediately,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  appealed  to  the  law.  To  avoid,  as 
much  as  possible,  a  business  for  which  he  had  an  un 
conquerable  loathing,  he  committed  the  whole  aifair  to 
Burnet,  with  full  power  to  manage  it  at  his  discretion, 
— only  signifying  his  wish  that  not  a  point  should  be 
yielded,  but  that  Giles  should  be  wrung  out  of  his  last 
dollar,  if  possible,  by  appeal,  continuation,  or  any  other 
means.  Burnet  chose  the  more  direct  way  of  adjusting 
the  matter,  by  compromise,  to  which  Giles,  who  found 
he  had  caught  a  Tartar,  readily  assented ;  but  Burnet 
was  astonished  to  find  his  services  so  ill  appreciated, 
that,  upon  hearing  the  result,  Williams  transferred  his 
dislike  from  his  opponent  to  his  attorney.  The  old  gen 
tleman  had  made  a  sort  of  merit  of  his  intention  to  beg 
gar  his  antagonist,  and,  in  his  rage  at  being  disappointed, 
flatly  and  directly  charged  the  lawyer  with  having  been 
the  accomplice  of  Giles,  in  an  attempt  to  impose  upon 
him.  We  cannot  tell  how  Burnet  would  have  received 
such  a  charge,  had  it  not  been  for  the  interference  of  a 
certain  blind  god,  who  imparts  a  portion  of  his  own  in 
distinctness  of  vision  to  lovers,  when  the  faults  and 


LOVE      AND     LAW.  17 

impertinence  of  fathers  are  apparent  enough  to  every 
body  else. 

Reasoning  him  out  of  so  preposterous  an  idea  was  only 
hunting  him  to  another  cover.  He  insisted  upon  it  that 
Burnet  was  only  careful  of  his  interest,  because  he 
expected  one  day  to  inherit  the  property  he  preserved. 
His  conduct  upon  this  conviction  was  less  violent,  but 
more  determined  than  before.  Such  were  the  effects 
of  one  lawsuit  upon  a  naturally  frank  and  open  disposi 
tion  !  Williams  had  learned  to  suspect  the  motives  of 
all  about  him.  He  had  also  learned  concealment,  for 
he  hugged  his  suspicions  to  himself,  and  inwardly,  but 
firmly  resolved,  that  the  young  man,  from  whom,  twenty- 
four  hours  before,  he  would  have  concealed  nothing, 
and  to  whom  he  would  have  denied  nothing,  should  be 
forbidden  the  house.  We  have  seen  how  this  determi 
nation  was  received  by  Mary,  and  how,  despite  the  old 
gentleman's  threats,  the  visits  of  Burnet  were  still  con 
tinued.  To  do  the  young  man  justice,  however,  it  is 
fair  to  state,  that  he  was  an  innocent  trespasser.  Had  • 
he  caught  an  inkling  of  the  old  gentleman's  suspicions, 
he  was  too  high-spirited  to  give  them  a  color,  by  perse 
vering  in  his  suit  to  the  daughter. 

****** 

"  She  sha'n't !" 

"  He  talks  in  his  sleep,  Mary." 

"  I  won't — I  won't,  never  will — it's  no — "(indistinct.) 

"  What  does  he  mean?" 

"  He  is  fighting  over  his  battles  with  Giles." 

Mary  knew  that  was  a — fib — when  she  uttered  it ;  and 
fearful  that  her  father's  treacherous  tongue  would  be 
tray  her,  rose  to  waken  him. 

"  Stop,  Mary,  there  he  goes  again." 
o* 


18  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

"  He  hates  Giles  so  devoutly,"  said  Mary,  trembling. 
"  Let  me  wake  him." 
"  No,  no,  sit  still." 

"  Comes  here — ( indistinct ) — kick  him  out !  " 
"  Mr  Giles  does  not  come  here,  Mary  !  " 
The  tone  in  which  that  short  sentence  was  uttered, 
spoke  all  the  wounded  pride  of  Burnet,  at  discovering 
the  deceit  which  had  been  practised  upon  him.  The 
whole  truth  flashed  upon  his  mind, — she  had  been 
receiving  his  addresses  in  her  father's  house,  in  his  very 
presence,  against  that  parent's  positive  wish  and  com 
mand.  How  startling  is  the  distinct,  slow  enunciation 
of  mingled  reproof  and  biting  sarcasm  !  Although  pro 
nounced  in  an  under-tone,  it  disturbed  the  old  gentle 
man,  and  he  started  from  his  chair,  completely  awake. 
"  Hey !  what !  ah,  Burnet,"  said  he,  coldly,  "  good 
evening.  But  what  the  devil  does  all  this  mean?  Mary 
there  is  as  red  as  her  shawl, — and  you  look  like  a 
convicted  felon."  Poor  Burnet  did  indeed  betray  that 
he  felt  the  awkwardness  of  his  situation.  As  if  he  had 
discovered  a  gunpowder  plot,  the  old  man  suddenly  re 
sumed — "  Pretty  well — p-r-e-t-t-y  well — d d  well,  Mr 

Burnet !    What  have  you  been  doing — what  have  you 
been  saying,  sir,  to  my  daughter,  in  my  own  house,  and 
under  my  very  nose,  sir?" 
"  Mr  Williams  !  " 

"  Mr  Burnet !"    And  the  old  gentleman  made  a  very 
low  bow. 

"  Mr  Williams,  I  have  accidentally  discovered,  by 
your  murmurings  in  your  slumbers,  that  you  propose  to 
kick  me  out  of  your  house." 
"Sir!" 
"  No  more  concealment,  Mr  Williams ;  it  sits  ill  upon 


LOVEANDLAW.  19 

you.  If,  with  your  accustomed  frankness,  you  had  told 
me  that  my  visits  to  your  daughter  were  disagreeable 
to  you,  I  never  would  have  intruded  them." 

"  Stay  away,  and  wish  me  dead — eh?  " 

"  Sir  !  " 

"  Yes,  just  as  I  say.  I  know  I  can't  wear  two  faces, 
like  a  lawyer,  (  between  his  teeth, )  and  since  I've  got 
a  part  of  the  load  off  my  stomach  in  my  sleep,  I'll  be 
hanged  if  the  whole  sha'n't  come.  I  believe  you  don't 
care  a  d — n  for  my  daughter — but  want  to  marry  my 
money.  There !  you  have  got  all  now,  that  you  could 
fish  out  of  what  I  shall  say  in  my  sleep  for  a  year  to 
come — or  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Well,  Mr  Williams,  I  shall  not  undertake,  by  talk 
ing,  to  defend  myself,  as  I  can  do  that  best  by  a  course 
which  will  not  only  save  words,  but  time,  and  not  a  few 
steps  between  my  office  and  your  house.  I  wish  you  a 
good  evening,  sir,  and  a  night's  sleep  where  I  shall  not 
be  a  listener — and  to  you,  Mary,  I  wish  a  portion  of 
your  father's  honest  frankness.  Had  you  possessed  a 
tithe  of  it,  I  should  not  now  be  so  ridiculously  situated. 
Allow  me  sir,  before  I  go,  as  a  particular  favor,  to 
inquire  what  friend  possessed  you  with  so  good  an  opin 
ion  of  me." 

"  Your  best  friend,  sir — yourself!  You  need  not  try 
to  eye  me  out  of  countenance ;  if  I  am  a  witness  against 
you,  I  am  not  to  be  brow-beaten,  I  promise  you.  I  told 
you  to  keep  the  ball  a-rolling  with  that  scoundrel  Giles, 
till  you  had  barked  him  clean.  I  told  you  that  I  would 
throw  away  two  dollars  for  his  one,  till  he  had  not  a  six 
pence  left — I  wanted  to  rid  the  county  of  him.  In 
stead  of  that,  you  compromise,  and  bring  me  a  couple 
of  thousand  dollars  of  his  money.  You  thought  me  an 


20  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

old  fool,  in  my  dotage, — but  I'm  hale  yet !  I'll  live,  a 
scare-crow,  to  keep  you  out  of  this  house,  this  ten  years  ! 
You  thought  you  was  husbanding  your  own  property — 
but  I'll  give  it  to  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  first 
— to  the  Esquimaux  Indians — throw  it  to  the  devil,  be 
fore  you  shall  have  it.  Good  night,  Mr  Burnet." 

"  Good  night,  sir." 

Mary,  as  in  duty  bound,  waited  upon  Burnet  to  the 
door.  Many  a  time  and  oft  had  that  door  been  a  wit 
ness  to  the  fact,  that  the  last  five  minutes  of  a  visit,  (oft 
entimes  unaccountably  stretched  to  sixty,)  are,  like  the 
postscript  of  a  letter,  appropriated  to  the  real  business 
— as  if  the  parties  forgot  it,  till  about  the  close  of  the 
interview.  Her  face,  as  plain  as  looks  could  speak,  said 
"One  kind  word  before  we  part:"  Burnet  obstinately 
refused  to  understand — and  did  not  even  repeat  his 
"good  night"  at  the  door.  It  was  fairly  closed,  and  the 
key  turned,  before  Mary  felt  that  she  was  really  alone — 
that  he  had  taken  his  leave — perhaps  his  final  leave. 

"  A  passionate,  hard-hearted  brute,  to  leave  me  thus  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  I'll  never  speak  to  him  again  !  " 

"  That's  right !  "  cried  her  father,  who  caught  only 
the  last  sentence.  "  That's  right,  my  daughter  !  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  hate  him  !"  said  Mary,  as  she  closed 
her  chamber-door.  Oh !  a  single  tear  would  have  been 
to  her  a  pearl  of  great  price — but  not  one  could  be  per 
suaded  from  her  eye-lids. 

She  threw  herself  upon  the  bed  and  instituted  a  self- 
examination.  Judgment  on  the  bench, — present,  Bur- 
net,  appellant,  by  his  attorney,  Dan  Cupid  ;  and  Mary 
Williams,  respondent.  Cupid  argued  like  an  adept,  for 
his  absent  client — Mary  made  but  a  feeble  defence — 
and  admitted  that  she  might  have  been  partially  in  fault. 


LOVE      AND     LAW.  21 

The  case  was  submitted  to  Conscience,  who  returned 
a  verdict  of  GUILTY  against  the  maiden.  Mercy,  who  is 
always  ready  to  temper  the  severity  of  Justice,  brought 
a  shower  of  tears  to  her  relief,  and  Mary  wept  herself 

to  sleep. 

****** 

Cupid  is  a  knavish  lad, 

Thus  to  make  poor  lawyers  mad. 

"  Morning  her  sweets  was  flinging," — but  in  the  dis 
tribution  she  certainly  forgot  to  be  impartial.  The  vin 
egar  aspect  of  Timothy  Burnet,  Esq.  as  he  sat  in  his 
office,  on  the  morning  succeeding  his  ejectment  from 
Old  Williams's  premises,  was  proof  positive,  that  he,  at 
least,  had  been  neglected  by  Madam  Aurora,  in  her  dis 
pensation  of  "  sweets." 

"A  heartless  old  reprobate, — but  his  daughter — Mary ! 
— there's  the  unkindest  cut  of  all !  To  think  she  should 
have  concealed  the  true  state  of  things,  and  let  me  get 
into  such  a  confoundedly  awkward  scrape.  '  Kick  him 
out ! ' — that's  the  thanks  T  get,  for  serving  another  at 
my  own  cost — for  compromising  a  suit,  which,  properly 
nursed,  would  have  bought  me  a  house.  Williams  vs. 
Giles — but  I've  .done  with  him.  I'll  send  old  Hunks 
this  package,  and  think  no  more  of  him  or  his  daugh 
ter.  Here,  Peter!  (His  Mercury,  who  was  improving 
the  advantages  of  the  situation  of  a  lawyer's  boy,  by  play 
ing  in  the  street,  pocketed  his  marbles,  and  shuffled  into 
the  office.)  Take  this  packet  over  to  Mr  Williams's." 

"  Ask  for  Miss  Mary,  and  wait  for  an  answer,  sir?  " 

"  No,  you  fool,  can't  you  read  the  direction?  Lucky 
that  these  things  don't  disturb  my  philosophy.  They 
would  completely  unhinge  some  men  for  business;  but 
give  me  as  much  to  do  every  day,  as  I  have  had  this 


22  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

morning,  and  I  won't  think  of  Moll  Williams,  or  any 
other  she,  twice  in  a  twelvemonth.  Well,  Tipstaff,  have 
you  served  it?" 

"If  you'd  just  take  the  trouble  to  look  it  over,"  said 
the  sheriff's  deputy,  as  he  entered,  looking  more  than 
usually  pleased,  and  handing  the  attorney  a  paper.  "  I'm 
thinking  this  won't  do  to  arrest  Joe  Barnes  upon,  any 
how." 

"  ' Sheriff cither  of  his   Deputies often 

requested — never  paid  the  same — neglects  and  refuses  so 

to  do goods, default  thereof — body  of  the 

said — MARY  WILLIAMS  ! '  Pshaw  !  I  never  gave  you 
this!" 

"  You  certainly  did." 

*  *  #  #  #  # 

"  Glad  to  hear  you  so  decided,  Mary.  Glad  to  hear 
what  you  said  last  night.  I  knew  you'd  come  to  your 
senses  after  a  while,  and  see  through  that  rogue  of  an 
attorney." 

Mary  spilled  the  coffee,  and  scalded  her  fingers — look 
ed  white — then  red — then  white  again. 

"  Mean  to  stick  to  it,  don't  you?" 

"  No— ah— yes." 

"  That's  right — never  speak  to  him  again — eh?" 

"  Yes— that  is—" 

"Eh?" 

"  No,  father." 

"  See  that  you  don't — never  speak  to  a  fortune- 
hunter — never  look  at  one  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  Mr  Burnet  a  fortune-hunter." 

"  No !  you  hate  him  for  something  else  then  ?  A 
scoundrel !  If  Mr  Burnet  has  presumed — if — if,  I'll 
shoot  him  !  What  do  you  hate  him  for  ? " 


LOVE      AND      LAW.  23 

"  I  don't." 

"  What !  No  and  yes — yes  and  no — you  do  hate  him, 
and  you  don't !  Law  puzzles  me,  but  woman  is  worse. 
If  law  is  the  devil,  woman  is  legion  !  " 

The  old  gentleman  commenced  pacing  the  room  in  a 
paroxysm.  Burnet's  package  came  in ;  as  Williams 
opened  it,  a  note  fell  to  the  floor. 

"For  me,  father?" 

"  Yes — if  your  name  is  Tobias  Williams." 

If  there  is  anything  in  this  world  particularly  and 
vexatiously  provoking,  it  is,  to  be  obliged  to  keep  one's 
hands  off  a  newspaper,  till  some  a-b-c-denarian  has 
spelled  out  all  the  advertisements, — or  to  wait  a  week 
for  the  contents  of  a  note,  in  which  you  are  equally  inter 
ested  with  the  man  who  is  proceeding  to  inform  himself 
of  them,  as  deliberately  as  if  his  life  were  to  end  with 
the  pronunciation  of  the  last  word.  While  Father  Wil 
liams  placed  his  arm-chair  at  the  window,  drew  forth 
his  spectacles,  wiped  and  adjusted  them,  held  the  paper 
now  near,  now  farther  from  his  nose,  till  he  ascertained 
the  exact  focus,  Mary  could  hardly  forbear  snatching 
the  paper  from  his  hand. 

"  Let  me  read  it  first,  papa."     No  answer. 

"  Do  let  me  see  it,  father." 

"  After  me  madam,  if  at  all." 

"Oh  dear!"  And  she  fidgetted  in  her  chair,  and 
looked  so  vexed.  "  Well,  if  I  am  not  going  to  see  it 
to-day,  read  it  aloud,  will  you,  father?" 

"  Eh-em.  '  When  you  instructed  me  to  commence 
a  suit  against  Giles,  the  prosecution  of  your  claim  for 
damages  involved  the  title  of  your  estate.  I  found, 
when  you  purchased  of  Bangs,  that  he  gave  you  only  a 
quit-claim.  He  bought  of  John  Bradley,  whose  wife 


24  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

never  relinquished  her  right ;  and  she  being  dead,  it  is 
now  on  her  son.'  What,  on  her  son, — what  does  that 
mean,  Mary?" 

"  Let  me  see.     It's  in,  father — in  her  son." 
"In  her  son.     Well,  what  does  that  mean?  " 
"  Never  mind,  father,  read  on." 

"  '  In  her  son.  If  Giles  had  been  put  to  a  legal  de 
fence,  his  lawyer  would  have  discovered  the  flaw  in  your 
title,  and  have  purchased  the  claim,  or  bid  for  it,  which 
would  have  compelled  us  to  make  a  great  sacrifice  of 
money  and  trouble  to  obtain  a  clear  deed.  I  was 
afraid  to  let  the  case  lay  open  a  day,  lest  he  should  dis 
cover,  and  take  advantage  of  the  fact, — and  therefore 
settled  with  Giles,  to  your  great  dissatisfaction.  I  was 
afraid  to  trust  even  you  with  the  secret,  until  I  had 
obtained  a  quit-claim  of  young  Bradley — in  which  I 
have  just  succeeded.  For  the  expenses — you  may 
reimburse  me,  whenever  you  can  spare  the  money  from 
your  benevolent  purposes  to  the' — What !  " 

"  Esquimaux  Indians." 

"  What  the  devil  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear,  gentle  papa,  you  swore  roundly,  last 
night,  to  Mr  Burnet,  that  you  would  give  your  money 
to  the  Esquimaux,  before,  as  your  son-in-law,  he  should 
touch  a  dollar  of  it." 

"  Did  I  ?  I'd  forgotten  it.     Mary  !  " 

"  Sir  !  " 

"  Look  me  directly  in  the  face.  Now  tell  me,  did 
you  ever  tell  Tim  Burnet  what  I  thought  of  him  in  that 
Giles  business  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Are  you  sure? — no  evasion  now." 

"  I  certainly  never  did." 


ENNUI.  25 

"  Then  I  think  better  of  him  than  if  he  had  visited 
the  house,  knowing  what  I  thought  and  said.  We  acted 
like  fools,  last  night." 

"  We  indeed !" 

"  Give  me  my  hat  and  cane,  Mary." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  father  ?" 

"  Don't  ask  so  many  questions,  girl." 

*  *  *  #  *  * 

"Time  flies." 

"  Oh,  gran'pa !  Let  me  look  at  the  pictures  in   th« 
big  Bible.     What's  that,  gran'pa  ?" 
"  That's  writing." 
"  What  does  it  say  ?" 
"  '  Timothy  Burnet  to  Mary  Williams.'  " 
"Who  is  Mary  Williams,  gran'pa?" 
"  Go  ask  your  mother,  you  young  blockhead." 


ENNUI 

WAS  never  better  defined,  than  when  Bulwer  called  it 
"  The  Ghost  of  Time  murdered."  We  believe,  how 
ever,  that  it  is  not  a  ghost  of  frequent  appearance  in 
New  England.  The  characteristic  trait  of  a  Yankee  is 
his  activity  and  wish  for  constant  employment.  So 
much  is  this  an  universal  trait,  that  an  idler  among  the 
descendants  of  the  puritans  is  out  of  his  latitude.  A 
mark  is  set  upon  him — the  fact  of  living  without  visible 
means  of  subsistence  is  considered  a  suspicious  circum 
stance.  Among  the  questions  for  which  New  England- 
ers  are  proverbial,  "What  does  he  do?"  is  the  one 
above  others  peculiar  to  them,  both  for  its  phraseology 
and  import. 


26  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 


THE     BUSTLING     MAN 

YONDER  he  comes,  the  Bustling  Man, 

How  stately  fast  he  stalks, 
His  two  arms  pendant,  to  and  fro 

Are  swinging  as  he  walks  ; 
By  weight  of  business  on  his  hands 

Those  arms  have  stiff  become — 
As  lines  are  to  their  tension  stretched, 

By  weight  of  leaden  plumb. 

At  nine  and  ninety  Fahrenheit 

The  subtile  mercury  stands  ; 
Yet  still  he  plies  his  busy  feet, 

And  still  he  swings  his  hands  ; 
Big  drops  of  sweat  coagulate 

Upon  his  rosy  front, 
Yet  doth  he  not  his  speed  abate — 

A  world  depends  upon't ! 

Down  State  Street  now  he  locomotes— 

They  open  him  a  road  ; 
To  stand  in  such  a  walker's  way 

Would  sudden  death  forebode  ; 
The  broker  and  the  monied  man 

Forget  the  fall  of  stocks, 
To  dodge  the  swinging  of  those  arms, 

Like  pendula  of  clocks. 

The  pillars  of  the  "  Monster  Bank" 

Are  granite-cold  with  fright ; 
For  should  with  them  in  contact  come 

That  awful  walking  wight, 
The  "Hero's  "  labor  were  half  done, 

And  half  his  fame  bereft — 
There  would  not  be  a  single  stone 

Upon  another  left  ! 


THE       BUSTLING     MAN.  27 

Of  wind  there's  not  a  particle, 

The  air  is  still  as  death — 
Yet  still  he  walks,  that  bustling  man, 

And  is  not  out  of  breath  ! 
Sol's  rays  are  perpendicular, 

His  arid  heat  intense; 
Our  walking  biped's  motions  yet 

Are  in  the  present  tense  ; — 

He  walks  !  will  he  forever  walk 

In  geometric  pace, 
Just  like  a  pair  of  compasses 

Accomplishing  a  race  ? 
Now  dexter,  ambidexter  now, 

His  pedal  props  move  on — 
God  save  th'  eternal  walking  one  ! 

Will  he  have  never  done  ? 

Thank  God  !  The  capsill  of  Long  Wharf 

Has  stopped  him  with  a  shock ; 
He  walks  upon  the  pavement,  but 

He  cannot  walk  the  dock  ! 
His  arms  are  swinging  still,  but  he 

Is  letting  off  his  steam; 
I'll  speak  to  him,  before  again 

He  starts  his  magic  team. 

"  Say,  stranger  of  the  lengthy  leg, 

What  is  your  cause  of  haste  ? 
Do  you  from  Diddle  come,  express, 

That  thus  the  streets  you've  raced  ? 
Or,  is  your  father  very  sick  ? 

Or  mother  next  to  dead  ?" 
"  JVb  sir,  I'm  trying  to  digest 

JL  loaf  of  Graham  Bread  .'" 


28  CORRECTED   I' ROOFS. 


THE   PARTNERS. 

NEW  STORE.  Smith  &  Brown  respectfully  inform  the  pub 
lic  of  Cedarville  and  vicinity,  and  their  i'riends  generally,  that 
they  have  taken  the  Store  on  Main  Street,  a  few  doors  from  the 
Meeting-House,  where  they  have  on  hand  and  for  sale,  every  de 
scription  of  goods,  at  prices  as  low  as  at  any  other  place,  in  city 
or  country. 

THE  above,  with  the  customary  abundant  sprinkling  of 
italics,  capitals,  and  full-faced  type,  was  the  only  new 
advertisement  in  the  columns  of  the  Cedarville  Univer 
sal  Advertiser,  on  the  morning  of  the  5th 'of  May,  18 — . 
"  Who  is  Smith  &,  Brown  ?"  inquired  the  old  ladies  of 
the  village,  as  their  eyes  wandered  from  the  record  of 
the  deaths  to  the  advertisement  below;  and  "  Who  is 
Smith  &•  Brown  ?"  echoed  the  young  ladies,  who,  after 
studying  the  Hymeneal  Register,  glanced  also  at  the 
advertisement.  Methinks  the  reader  is  inquiring  too 
— who  are  the  Smith  and  Brown,  introduced  by  you 
BO  abruptly  1  Patience,  gentle  sir, — if  sir  you  be, — if 
madam,  it  is  of  no  use  to  preach  patience, — patience, 
and  you  will,  in  proper  time,  become  acquainted  with 
THE  PARTNERS. 

Smith  and  Brown  had  decided  to  connect  themselves 
hi  business,  and  astonish  the  natives  of  some  country 
town,  with  a  store  a  touch  above  any  thing  of  the  kind 
out  of  the  limits  of  the  metropolis.  Cedarville  happen 
ed  to  be  the  place  pitched  upon,  and  so  rapidly  was 
their  migration  effected,  and  the  business  of  opening 
performed,  that,  until  they  were  ready  for  customers, 
not  more  than  half  the  women  within  ten  miles  of  their 


THEPAIITNERS.  29 

store  knew  that  such  a  thing  was  in  contemplation. 
The  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser  had  the  merit,  for 
once,  of  containing  something  of  which  the  universe 
was  not  previously  advised  ;  and  the  gossips  of  Cedar 
ville  were  nearly  distracted — such  a  march  had  been 
stolen  upon  them  !  They  fell  in  readily  with  the  opin 
ion  of  Old  Pimento,  at  the  old  stand,  that,  as  the  new 
store  "  sprung  up  like  a  mushroom,  in  a  night,  it  would 
disappear  too,  between  two  days."  Commence  business 
without  making  six  months  preparatory  talk  !  the  thing 
was  preposterous  and  unprecedented.  But  they  suc 
ceeded,  nevertheless.  The  young  women  had  become 
tired  of  shop-worn  commodities,  especially  when  sold 
by  a  crusty  old  Benedict,  and  the  temptations  of  new 
goods  and  the  new  faces  of  two  young  bachelors  were 
irresistible.  All  the  influence  of  the  editor  of  the 
Universal  Advertiser  was  on  the  side  of  the  new  store,  for 
the  "trader"  at  the  old  one  never  could  be  persuaded, 
that  in  a  town  where  there  was  but  one  store,  there 
was  any  need  of  advertising.  Even  now,  that  there 
were  two,  he  would  not  be  provoked  into  a  paper  war 
with  the  new  comers,  whose  advertisements  added  some 
ten  dollars  to  the  annual  income  of  the  Advertiser — no 
inconsiderable  item,  by  the  way,  in  the  receipts  of  a 
village  editor.  For  this  sum  they  were  allowed  a  squarr, 
which,  in  the  country,  means  a  page  of  the  paper. 

Awful  was  the  schism  created  in  Cedarville  by  the 
new  store !  Old  Mr  Pimento  stopped  his  paper,  be 
cause  he  liked  an  independent  press,  and  the  Advertiser 
had  had  the  impudence  to  publish  Smith  &/  Brown's 
advertisements,  to  his  manifest  injury.  Such  is  the  * 
general  idea  of  newspaper  independence — subscribers 
wish  to  see  an  editor  untrammelled,  and  therefore 
3* 


30  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

relieve  him  of  the  encumbrance  of  their  names,  upon 
less  grievous  causes  than  that  which  induced  Pimento 
to  discontinue  the  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser. 
The  old  ladies  sided  with  Mr  Pimento,  the  young  ones 
belonged  to  the  other  faction,  and  the  men  stood  neu 
tral,  or  moved  as  driven  by  wife,  daughter,  or  wife  in 
tended.  Such  was  the  posture  of  things  in  the  town  of 
Cedarville,  the  parties  alternately  going  up  and  down, 
as  Old  Pimento  sold  the  best  molasses,  or  the  other  house 
the  best  bargains,  when  affairs  began  to  come  upon  the 
carpet,  more  directly  interesting  to  Smith  and  Brown, 
and  therefore  to  the  readers  of  our  veritable  history. 
The  star  of  the  young  firm  had  been  some  days  on  the 
ascendant.  After  a  good  day's  work,  both  partners 
waited  in  the  store,  as  if  each  had  something  to  tell  the 
other,  with  which  it  would  not  answer  to  trust  any  walls 
but  their  own 

Each  made  awkward  work  of  his  communication  ;  but 
we  shall  omit  the  stammering  preface,  and  state  only 
the  substance  of  both  their  confessions,  which  wras  that 
each  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  w  hen  it  was  said 
"  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,"  partnerships  in 
business  were  not  the  associations  deemed  necessary. 
Though  Satan  is  ever  fond  of  rebuking  sinryet  neither 
party  could  condemn  the  other  for  the  intended  crime 
of  matrimony,  in  the  abstract ;  but  each  thought  his 
disapprobation  of  the  taste  of  the  other,  in  the  choice 
of  an  accomplice. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Smith  to  himself;  "  Brown  is  deter 
mined,  then,  to  throw  himself  away  upon  that  low-bred 
dowdy.  She  is  as  poor  as  she  is  avaricious." 

"  Well,"  said  Brown,  with  a  shrug ;  "  Mr  Smith  may 
yoke  himself  for  life  to  purse-pride  and  e^ectationf,  if 


THE      PARTNERS.  31 

he  chooses.     It  is  no  business  of  mine."     And  so  they 
parted  for  the  night. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

MARRIED.     In  13 ,  by  Rev.  Mr  Thunipcushion,  Mr  John 

Smith,   of  Cedarville,   of  the  firm  of  Smith  &  Brown,  to  Miss 
Ann  Matilda,  only  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Cra;sus  Ingot,  of  B . 

In  E ,  Mr  David  Brown,  of  Cedarville,  of  the  firm  of 

Smith  &  Brown,  to  Miss  Mary  Tidd. 

Another  feather  floated  in  the  cap  of  the  editor  of 
the  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser, — for  the  above 
interesting  item  of  intelligence  beamed  first  upon  Cedar 
ville  through  its  columns,  so  silently  had  every  thing 
been  conducted.  In  dilating  upon  the  square  inch  of 
cake  which  backed  the  request  for  insertion,  Mr  Editor 
ground  out  the  only  original  article  which  had  appeared 
in  his  columns,  since,  six  weeks  before,  Mr  Allen's 
boy  supplied  a  "  Narrow  Escape,"  by  cutting  his  finger 
with  a  case-knife. 

The  effect  of  the  announcement  upon  the  inhabitants 
of  Cedarville  was  the  breaking  up,  in  a  great  measure, 
of  the  party  divisions.  The  old  ladies  were  indignant 
that  this  news  had  burst  upon  the  community,  without 
their  having  had  so  much  as  a  nibble  of  it  in  advance 
of  the  general  promulgation ;  the  unengaged  young 
ladies,  each  of  whom  had,  secretly  and  in  her  own  mind, 
appropriated  one  of  the  firm  to  herself,  began  to  have  a 
manifest  leaning  to  the  Pimento  party ;  and  the  mar 
ried  and  engaged  young  ladies,  who  stuck  to  the  firm 
in  hopes  of  being  invited  to  their  parties,  were  in  the 
minority.  Things  began  to  look  squally,  when,  as  is 
often  the  case  in  emergencies,  a  something  was  found 
to  stem  the  current,  and  save  the  falling  fortunes  of  the 
house  of  Smith  &  Brown.  Faster  than  the  slow  heels 
of  the  carrier  boy  circulated  the  Cedarville  Universal 


32  CORRECTED      PROOFS, 

Advertiser  about  the  village,  the  intelligence  flew  orally, 
that  Smith  &/  Brown  were  "  giving  a  treat."     This  at 
once  formed   a  new  accession  to  the  new  store  party, 
as  every  man  in  a  New  England  village,  in  18 — ,  would 
drink,  where  liquor  ran  without  money  and  without 
price  ;  and  every  boy  would  be  on  hand,  to  eat  the 
sugar  from  the  bottom  of  the  tumblers,  suck  the  toddy- 
sticks  and  long  to  be  men — that  being  as  near  drinking 
as  boys  were  permitted  to  go — their  elders  sagely  back 
ing  their  own   examples,  by  warning  boys  not  to  drink 
spirit.     They  manage  these  things  better  now-a-days. 
The    editor    gained  great    credit    by    an    impromptu 
toast,  concocted  during   all   the   night  before,  in  which 
he  hoped  the  "  house  of  Smith  &-  Brown  would  fare  none 
the  worse  for  having  taken  sleeping  partners."    Pimento, 
who  found  his  way  into  the  store  for  the  first  time,  went 
home  growling  that  they  "  would  spoil  the  trade,  if  they 
did  not  reduce  their  spirit  more."      Upon  reaching  his 
own  store,  he  put  another  gallon  of  alcohol  into  each  of 
his  bar-casks  of  water  and  alcohol,  swept  a  peck  of  flies 
from  his  windows,  and  some  of  the  dust  off  his  shelves. 
"  Will  they  give  a  party,  I  wonder  1"     Here  the  Ce- 
darville  Universal  Advertiser    could  not  forestall  the 
women,  who  are  the  exclusive  venders  of  this  sort  of 
news  ;  and  the  women  soon  got  hold  of  circumstantial 
evidence,  that  at  Smith's  house  something  was  in  prepa 
ration.     Mrs  Smith  had  sent  to  one  neighbor  for  eight 
quarts  of  milk,  and  her  "  help  "  had  borrowed  another's 
hearts  and  rounds.      "  Shall  /  get  an  invite?"  was  the 
next  question — but  the  worthy  folk  were  kept  but  little 
while  in  suspense.      The  shop-boy  of  Smith  &.  Brown 
soon  left  printed  "  invites  "  at  every  house  in  the  village, 
not  excepting  those  of  the  Pimento-ites,  and  that  of 


THE      PARTNERS.  33 

Old  Pimento  himself.       Business-like,  these  invitations 
were  issued  in  the  name  of  the  firm. 

#  *  *  *  *  * 

It  was  over.  Old  Pimento,  who  had  lingered,  the 
last  of  the  guests,  as  if  determined  to  do  his  full  share 
in  eating  out  the  substance  of  the  young  men,  had  at 
last  taken  his  hat.  Mr  and  Mrs  Smith  sat  alone. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  do  not  see  why  you 
would  invite  all  that  canaille  to  our  house." 

"  Policy,  Matilda.  I  wish  to  become  popular  with 
the  Cedarville  people." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  to  be  bored  to  death.  I  hope  you 
have  not  so  soon  forgotten  my  feelings  and  my  standing 
in  society.  My  father,  Mr  Ingot,  was  never  so  anxious 
to  please  the  rabble." 

"  Mrs  Smith,  I  hope  you  have  not  so  far  forgotten  my 
interest  as  to  stand  in  the  way  of  my  business.  The 
distant  jingle  of  your  father's  gold  will  not  support  us." 

Mrs  Ann  Matilda  Smith  sobbed  hysterically. 

#  *  #  #  *  * 

"  David,"  said  Mrs  Brown  to  her  husband,  as  they 
walked  home,  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  done  you  no  credit 
to-night — I  always  told  you  I  was  unused  to  society." 

"  Why,  Mary,  I  thought  you  succeeded  to  admiration 
with  the  villagers — mothers  and  daughters." 

"  Oh  yes,  and  I  have  many  pressing  invitations  to  visit 
them.  But  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  of  Mrs  Smith.  She 
came  and  sat  by  me  to-night,  and  said  something  about 
the  Great  Unknown.  I  didn't  make  any  answer,  and 
then  she  said  that  Waverley  alone  is  enough  to  set  him 
up.  What  did  she  mean,  David  ?  Is  there  to  be  another 
store  in  the  village  ?  Fin  sure  I'm  sorry  if  there  is. 
I  told  her  I  did  not  know  Mr  Waverley." 


34  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

Brown  gently  explained  her  mistake  to  her.  It  was  a 
bitter  evening,  in  conclusion,  for  both  partners — one  had 
to  drive  away  his  wife's  hysterics  with  volatile  salts  and 
promises  of  indulgence — the  other  to  console  an  intelli 
gent,  though  uncultivated  mind,  for  the  lack  of  that 
information  which  one  evening  had  convinced  her  was 
all-essential  to  her  creditable  appearance. 

On  the  morrow,  Mrs  Ann  Matilda  Smith  went  back 
to  the  house  of  her  father,  to  recover,  as  she  said,  from 
the  effects  of  an  excessive  infliction  of  rusticity.  She 
was  not  missed,  except  by  her  husband,  for,  truth  to  tell, 
she  did  not  win  many  hearts  at  "  the  party."  Weeks 
passed,  and  simple  Mary  Brown  grew  daily  in  the  good 
graces  of  the  dwellers  in  Cedarville.  The  parson's  wife 
"  thought  it  a  pity  she  had  been  neglected,"  but  deemed 
her  an  intelligent,  lady-like  young  woman,  nevertheless. 
Some  others  might  have  made  the  same  remark — but  all 
loved  her ;  and  through  her  popularity,  added  to  pre 
existing  circumstances,  the  tide  set  sadly  against  the 
store  of  Mr  Pimento.  At  the  end  of  a  few  weeks,  Mrs 
Ann  Matilda  Smith  returned. 

"  My  dear,  I  have  brought  you  a  present." 

"  Thank  you  for  returning  yourself,  Matilda,  before 
I  open  the  package,  lest  you  should  accuse  me  of  selfish 
ness,  in  thanking  you  afterward."  The  direction  was 
in  the  compting-house  hand  of  Mr  Ingot.  Smith  broke 
the  seal,  and  found  instruments  possessing  him  of  a  large 
landed  property,  and  a  check  for  several  thousands. 
"  Matilda,  after  the  unthinking  and  cruel  taunt  I  gave 
you  a  few  weeks  since,  I  cannot  accept  this." 

"  Mr  Smith !— Mr  Smith  !" 

There  was  something  hysterical  in  her  tone, — and 


THE      PARTNERS.  35 

Smith  hastily  interrupted,  "  allow  me  at  least  to  secure 
this  to  you,  I — " 

"  No  !  no  !  take  it  as  I  offer  it,  or—" 

Poor  Smith  !  He  plied  his  wife  alternately  with  vola 
tile  and  sugared  words  ; — the  latter  of  the  two  remedies 
brought  her  to,  because  they  imported  an  acceptance  of 
her  father's  present.  It  is  said  of  his  Satanic  Majesty 
and  the  wight  who  accepts  his  favors,  that  the  latter 
becomes  bound  to  him.  I  do  not  intend  to  compare  Mrs 
Smith  to  the  devil, — but  her  present  was  the  purchase- 
money  of  the — inexpressibles.  Smith  was  sold  to  her 
from  that  day. 

****** 

"  These  people  pay  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  your 
partner's  wife,  Mr  Smith." 

"  They  would  pay  you  the  same,  my  dear,  if  you  would 
accept  it." 

"  But  I  shall  not.  Who  can  endure  to  drink  yopon 
tea,  out  of  earthen  cups — and  hear  disquisitions  upon 
sage-cheese,  stocking-yarn,  the  price  of  eggs,  and  the 
raising  of  poultry, — I  cannot,  Mr  Smith." 

"  Mrs  Brown  does." 

"  Mrs  Brown !  It  is  her  element — the  hateful,  ignorant 
creature.  I  desire  you  will  not  ask  her  or  her  husband 
to  the  house  again." 

"  He  is  my  partner,  my  dear." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  need  such  a  partner.  You  don't 
want  his  capital,  certainly." 

"  His  capital  is  experience.  He  owns  nothing,  but 
receives  a  share  of  the  profits  for  his  services." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  I'm  sure  you  can  hire  a  good  clerk 
cheaper,  and  not  be  obliged  to  court  Brown  or  his  igno 
rant  wife.  I  wish  you  would  dissolve,  Mr  Smith.  /  do 


36  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

not  like  the  idea  of  finding  Mr  Brown  capital  to  trade 
upon."  Poor  Smith  ! 

*»*»** 

DISSOLUTION.  The  connexion  in  business,  heretofore  exist 
ing  under  the  firm  of  Smith  &  Brown,  is  this  day,  by  mutual  con 
sent,  dissolved. 

Mutual — Yes,  that  is  the  \vord,  when  a  strong  man 
kicks  a  weaker  out  of  doors  ;  and  the  above  is  a  literal 
transcript  from  the  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser. 

One  of  the  sleeping  partners  had  upset  the  house,  thus 
making  our  editorial  friend's  toast  as  mal  a-pro-pos  as 
were  his  editorials.  Mr  Brown  and  his  poor  ignorant 
wife  made  their  round  of  calls — stepped  into  the  stage 
with  light  hearts,  and  a  purse  which  honest  gains  had 
pretty  well  ballasted,  and  bade  adieu  to  Cedarville. 
Nothing  worthy  of  note  occurred  at  their  departure, 
except  that  the  editor  of  the  Cedarville  Advertiser  stop 
ped  the  stage  before  his  door,  to  ask  Brown  if  he  might 
not  send  him  the  paper — to  which  he,  the  said  Brown, 
maliciously  answered,  that  he  would  pay  him  the  price  of 
it,  if  he  would  keep  it  away.  Mr  Editor,  as  a  guardian 
of  public  morals,  was  not  profanely  inclined,  but,  upon 
this  occasion,  he  could  not  refrain  from  giving  his  opin 
ion,  that  Brown  "  was  a  d d  uncivil  fellow,  and  as 

illiterate  as  his  wife."  Every  body  in  the  village  regret 
ted  their  departure  except  Mrs  Smith,  Mr  Editor,  and 
Old  Pimento.  The  latter  had  reason  to  be  pleased,  for 
Brown's  withdrawal  would,  he  knew,  essentially  weaken 
the  new  store  faction. 

The  tide  turned  into  its  old  channel,  and  Pimento 
soon  saw  all  the  old  faces  back  to  his  counter, — except, 
perhaps,  a  few  whose  wives  trimmed  their  bonnets  and 
caps  like  Mrs  Smith,  and  esteemed  it  an  honor  to  get  a 


THE      PARTNERS.  37 

nod  from  her.  In  proportion  as  business  lessened,  she, 
thinking  the  portion  she  brought  inexhaustible,  increas 
ed  her  expenses.  She  figured  in  the  streets  of  Cedar- 
ville,  in  dresses  which  would  have  attracted  notice  for 
their  expensive  quality,  in  Washington  Street  or  Broad 
way.  Clouds  of  the  family  connexions,  and  the  family 
connexions'  connexions  of  the  Ingots,  settled  on  Smith 
to  rusticate,  devouring  his  substance  like  a  swarm  of  lo 
custs.  And  every  city  carriage  which  rolled  to  his  door, 
rolled  away  the  patronage  of  some  villager  who  prefer 
red  purchasing  sugar  of  Old  Pimento,  to  being  hurried 
ly  served  by  the  now  exclusive  and  genteel  Mr  Smith. 
****** 

As  Pimento  was  spelling  out  the  Cedarville  Adverti 
ser, — for,  since  the  editor  had  returned  to  his  allegi 
ance,  he  had  again  subscribed, — he  chuckled  over  the 
following  notice  : — "All  persons  indebted  to  John  Smith 
are  notified  that  his  books  and  accounts  are  assigned  to 
Croesus  Ingot,  to  whom  immediate  payment  must  be 
made.  Creditors  may  become  parties,  by  signing  the 
assignment."  "Holloa!  neighbor,"  he  shouted  to  a 
passer-by,  who  had  been  one  of  the  new  store  party, 
"  why  can't  you  tell  me  how  Smith  &  Wife  sell  London 
and  French  Prints  !  "  "  Smith  &  Wife's  Store  "  had 
become  the  cant  term. 

*  *  *  #  *  * 

Years  had  passed.  Two  persons  accidentally  met  on 
'Change.  There  was  a  look  of  uncertain  recognition. 

"  Brown  ?  " 

"Smith?" 

A  hearty  shaking  of  hands  followed. 

"  How  is  your  lady,  Brown  1  " 

"  Well.     She  is  now  acquainted  with  Mr  Waverley.  " 


38  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

"  And  mine  has  forgotten  her  hysterics.  " 

The  four  met  at  the  city  residence  of  Mr  Brown,  who 
had,  by  industry*,  become  possessed  of  a  handsome  prop 
erty.  Smith,  also,  taught  wisdom  by  his  reverses,  had 
retrieved  his  pecuniary  affairs.  The  husbands  came 
from  the  library  together. 

"  Ladies,"  said  Smith,  "  we  have  again  entered  into 
copartnership.  Matilda,  do  you  think  you  can  now 
invite  that  hateful  Mrs  Brown  to  our  house  ?  " 

"  Mary,"  said  Brown,  "  are  you  now  afraid  of  Mrs 
Smith?" 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  explanations  had  taken 
place.  Mrs  Smith  was  not  naturally  vain,  nor  was  Mrs 
Brown  ever  doicdy,  though  once  ignorant.  Both  were 
placed,  by  marriage,  in  situations  for  which  they  w7ere 
unfit,  and  each  had  learned  to  adapt  herself  to  her  situ 
ation.  Mrs  Smith  learned  the  thrift  and  pleasant  man 
ners  of  Mary  Brown — and  if  the  latter  did  not  acquire 
all  the  shining  accomplishments  of  Mrs  Smith,  she  at 
least  became  deeply  read  enough  to  make  her  an  agree 
able  companion  for  her  husband,  and  to  place  her  above 
the  danger  of  appearing  to  ridiculous  disadvantage.  Of 
the  two,  Mrs  Smith  had,  in  her  education,  cost  her  hus 
band  the  most.  One  partner  married  above,  the  other 
below,  his  station  in  life. 

In  the  last  connexion  in  business,  the  sleeping  part 
ners  have  proved  such  valuable  auxiliaries,  that  their 
husbands'  paper  is  quite  as  good  as  that  of  any  Ingot  on 
'Change.  Old  Pimento  buys  his  goods  of  the  import 
ing  house  of  Smith  &  Brown,  who  advertise  to  country 
traders  in  the  columns  of  theCedarville  Universal  Adver 
tiser  ;  and  the  editor  of  that  respectable  paper  carriei 
his  head  higher  than  ever. 


DEGREES     OF     DRUNKENNESS.  39 


DEGREES    OF     DRUNKENNESS. 

"First,  Fresh;  second,  Emphatic  ;  third,  Glorious  ;  fourth, 
Uproarious;  lastly,  Insensible.''' — FROLICS  OF  PUCK. 


That  rosy  cheek  and  sparkling  e'e 

Prove  jolly  Bacchus  in  possession  ; — 

Premonitory  of  a  spree, 

They  mark  the  aspect  of  a  Fresh'un. 

He  fills  the  goblet  to  the  brim, 
Drinks,  and  refills, 

Until  his  happy  senses  swim, 
And  his  head  reels  ; 

Then  thinks  his  every  thought  is  attic, 

And  soon  from  fresh,  becomes 

EMPHATIC. 

As  in  a  crowded  house,  the  throng 
Fast  to  the  door  are  borne  along, 

Shoulder  to  shoulder,  hip  to  hip — 
All  the  ideas  by  liquor  wrought 
Are  in  a  chaos,  sudden  brought 

Upon  the  burdened  lip  ; — 
Justling,  pushing, 
Outward  rushing, 

The  crowd  each  others'  steps  embarrass  ; 
So  one  word  o'er  another  trips, 
Upon  the  emphatic  bibber's  lips  ; 
Though  pressed,  not  half  ex-pressed,  in  vain 
You  strive  his  meaning  to  attain  ; 
His  words  but  put  himself  in  pain, 
And  serve  the  listener  to  harrass  ; — 
Forthwith  he  rises  to  the  squall-ics, 
As  if  each  word  were  in  italics  ; 


40  CORRECTED      PROOFS, 

With  gestures  odd,  and  upraised  hand, 
He  emphasizes  if  and  and ; — 
Till  to  all  present,  'tis  notorious, 
That  he  has  reached  the  order 

GLORIOUS. 
As  difficulties  but  incite 

Th'  impetuous  mind  to  farther  daring, — 
His  swollen  tongue  though'oft  he  bite, 

Yet  will  he  still  continue  swearing  ; — 
While  deeper  his  potations  grow, 
His  patriotism  'gins  to  flow  ; — 
He  damns  the  fool  who  does  not  think 
A  man  to  drunkenness  should  drink  ; — 
In  politics,  the  op'site  part/ 
Is  visited  with  curses  hearty  ; — 
Till  his  noise  shews  he  has  from  glorious, 
Gone  a  step  farther,  to 

UPROARIOUS. 

Wake  snakes  !  Huzza  !  waste  and  confusion, 
By-words,  and  shouts,  and  noisy  revel, — 

Wassail  and  wine  in  sad  profusion 

Have  with  his  senses  played  the  devH  ! 

Windows  are  smashed,  and  glasses  broken  ; 

Too  drunk  to  speak,  no  longer  spoken, 

His  oaths  are  bellowed,  such  a  rate  OH 

As  to  astonish  even  Satan, — 

Until,  with  liquor  gorged  full, 

He  drops  him  down 

INSENSIBLE. 

Here,  Bacchi  phnus,  full  of  wine, 
Behold  the  '  human  form  divine  !  ' 
Like  leathern  bag  of  ages  back, 
His  hide  is  but  a  liquor  sack  I 


A      WINTER       IN      CEDARVILLE.  41 


A    WINTER    IN    CEDARVILLE. 

"  Is  he  handsome?"  "Old?"  "Young?"  "Married?" 
"  Single  ?  "  "  Is  he  a  Collegian  ?  "  "A  Doctor  ?  "  "A 
Lawyer  ?  "  "A  Student  of  Divinity  ?  "  "  Is  he  tall  ?  " 
"  Short  ?  "  "  Stout-built  ?  "  "  Slender  ?  "  "  Genteel  ?  " 
«  Is  he—" 

Here  the  querists  talked  so  fast  and  so  confusedly, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  transfer  their  questions  to  paper. 
Mr  Pimento,  who  had  just  stalked  into  the  room,  in  all 
the  dignity — or  perhaps  we  should  say,  in  all  the  digni 
ties,  of  Chairman  of  the  Selectmen,  Chairman  of  the 
School-Committee,  of  *the  Board  of  Health,  of  the 
Overseers  of  the  Poor,  and  of  the  Assessors,  was  dumb 
founded.  Ever  since  the  Roman  matrons  bored  the 
senate  of  the  city  of  the  seven  hills,  women  have  been 
curious  upon  the  proceedings  of  deliberative  assemblies. 
We  say  ever  since — not  that  women  were  not  curious 
before  Romulus  killed  Remus  for  jumping  over  a  mud 
wall,  but  because  the  instance  above  cited  is  one  of  the 
first  authentic  ones  OH  record.  It  was  known  in  the 
quiet  village  of  Cedarville,  that  a  committee  meeting 
was  to  be  held  on  the  afternoon  of  the  25th  of  October, 
18 — ,  for  the  selection  and  engagement  of  a  schoolmaster. 
On  the  same  afternoon,  the  fates  so  ordered  it,  that  Mrs 
Pimento  invited  some  score  of  her  female  friends,  mar 
ried  and  unmarried,  to  make  way  with  her  husband's 
Young  Hyson.  When  that  Caleb  Quotem  came  from 
the  meeting,  he  was  assailed,  as  we  have  seen,  by  the 
women,  who,  whatever  be  their  usual  developement  of 
4* 


42  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

the  organ  of  veneration,  certainly  venture  upon  more 
liberties  with  public  dignitaries,  than  the  other  sex  dare 
indulge  in.  We  shall  here  leave  Mr  Pimento,  to  an 
swer  the  questions  of  his  wife's  friends  as  best  he  may, 
and  go  back  to  the  meeting  of  the  committee. 

Each  of  the  Boards  for  the  management  of  the  mu 
nicipal  affairs  of  Cedarville,  acted  essentially  as  "  an 
unit."  As  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  branch  of 
the  government  but  the  school-committee,  our  readers 
may  take  that  as  an  example.  Imprimis,  then,  there 
was  the  chairman,  Mr  Pimento,  elected  to  the  school- 
committee  on  the  strength  of  his  white  hairs,  and  his 
comfortable  property  ;  the  latter  being  proof  conclusive 
that  he  was  excellent  at  a  bargain,  and  would,  of  course, 
provide  economically  for  the  education  of  the  youth  of 
Cedarville.  He  was  farther  sirre  of  a  majority  of  votes 
for  any  office  in  the  gift  of  the  people,  because  he  had 
either  mortgages  on  half  the  estates  in  the  village,  or 
running  accounts  against  their  proprietors.  Their 
suffrages  were  free  certainly,  for  the  editor  of  the  Ce 
darville  Universal  Advertiser  maintained  so,  in  an  edi 
torial  article  a  column  long,  which  contained  only  that 
one  idea.  And  who  shall  gainsay  the  assertions  of  a 
newspaper  editor  1  Editors  are  infallible — therefore  it 
is  plain,  that  although  the  presentation  of  an  inconve 
nient  account,  or  the  immediate  and  inevitable  fore 
closing  of  a  mortgage,  was  the  consequence  of  a  vote 
against  Mr  Pimento,  the  suffrages  of  the  voters  of  Ce- 
darville  were  free  nevertheless. 

Second  on  the  board  was  the  Rev.  Mr  Monotonous. 
Mr  Monotonous  was  in  the  daily  habit  of  receiving  little 
presents  from,  and  in  the  weekly  habit  of  dining  with, 
Mr  Pimento.  The  third  was  our  old  friend  the  editor 


A     WINTER      IN     CEDARVILLE.  4o 

of  the  Advertiser.  Mr  Pimento  took  his  paper,  and 
gave  store  pay  therefor,  which  brought  the  editor  afore-- 
said  one  hundred  and  ninety-eight  dollars  in  debt  on  the 
first  day  of  January,  annually ;  the  price  of  the  paper 
being  deducted  from  the  account.  The  fourth  on  the 
board  was  mortgaged  to  Pimento,  house  and  land.  It 
is  easy  to  see  why  the  board  was  an  unit,  and  its  votes 
unanimous.  The  first  candidate  on  the  list  for  the  va 
cant  birth  of  schoolmaster,  was  Mr  Dihvorth  Accidence, 
who  passed  the  ordeal  of  Mr  Pimento's  examination  as 
follows  : — 

"  You're  a  young  man,  Mr  Accidence?  " 

"  Twenty-five." 

"  Born  in  New  England,  I  take  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  College  larnt  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  What  persuasion  ?  " 

Persuasion,  in  New  England,  means  religious  belief. 
Accidence  knew  that  his  fate  depended  upon  his  answer, 
but  he  knew  nothing  of  the  religious  sentiments  of  his 
examiner.  Fortune,  however,  helped  him  at  a  pinch, 
and  his  reply  would  not  have  disgraced  the  Delphic 
oracle,  being  capable  of  any  interpretation. 

"  The  religion  of  our  fathers." 

"  Hem-em.  You  say  you  are  college  larnt.  Be  you 
practical  ? — good  at  cipherin'  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir." 

"What  books  do  you  use?"  (Pimento  had  a  pile 
of  school-books  on  hand.) 

"  What  the  committee  direct." 

"  Hem — what'll  you  teach  for  ?  " 

"  What  the  town  has  been  in  the  habit  of  paying." 


44  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

"  Hope  you  pretty  generally  enjoy  good  health.'" 

"  Yes  sir,  I  always  enjoy  good  health."  ^ 

"  Got  a  recommend  1 " 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Mr.  Accidence,  you  may  go  out  a  fevr 
minutes." 

Mr.  Pimento  wiped  and  adjusted  his  spectacles,  and 
spelled  out  a  certificate  of  three  lines,  in  the  incredibly 
short  space  of  five  minutes.  "  Ahem-em-em,  (and  he 
took  off  his  spectacles,)  Gentlemen,  (here  he  rose,)  I 
think  the  master  went  through  his  examination  with  a 
great  deal  of  despatch  and  satisfaction.  It  appears  to 
me,  ahem — it  appears  to  your  cheer  man,  that  he  is  every 
way  quawlified,  and  I  conceit  we  can't  do  better  than 
to  hire  him  to  once.  He  is  orthodox  in  religion,  and 
will  be  a  great  addition  to  the  singin'  seats,  Sundays. 
Then  he  ain't  got  no  new-fangled  notions  about  books, 
to  run  folks  into  debt,  and  we  sha'n't  lose  no  time  by 
his  bein'  sick.  He  answered  very  correctly — as  well  as 
I  could  have  done  myself, — so  I'm  ready  to  hire  him. 
Eh-em-em.  What  do  you  say,  gentlemen,  shall  we  take 
him  without  lookin'  further  1  " 

The  vote  was  unanimous,  of  course,  and  Mr  Acci 
dence  was  called  in  and  engaged  (we  dare  not  say  upon 
what  terms,  lest  it  should  cause  a  shade  of  doubt  to  rest 
on  our  veracity).  Mr  Editor,  then,  in  the  hope  of  securing 
a  correspondent  to  the  Advertiser,  volunteered  to  shew 
the  schoolmaster  about  town,  and  Mr  Pimento  invited 
the  two  men  of  letters  to  call  at  his  house  in  the  evening. 
Now,  if  you  please,  reader,  we  will  slip  back  to  Mr 
Pimento's.  The  party  had  just  began  to  renew  their 
attacks  upon  their  host,  whea,  to  the  infinite  relief  of 
that  worthy,  the  door  opened,  and  Mr  Editor  announced 


A     WINTER      IN     CEDARVILLE.  45 

Mr  Dilworth  Accidence,  introducing  him  to  each  per 
son  present,  in  succession.  Oh !  there  is  no  describing 
the  sensation  that  is  created  in  a  country  village  by  the 
arrival  of  a  young — tolerably  pretty — unmarried  peda 
gogue.  The  village  belles  draw  odious  comparisons 
between  the  elegant  exotic  and  the  rustics  indigenous 
to  the  soil ;  and  the  village  beaux  silently  swear  horri 
bly  jealous  oaths  at  the  new  comer.  The  ceremony  of 
introduction  being  over,  Mr  Editor,  who  officiated  as 
stir-him-up-with-a-long-pole-exhibitor  of  the  lion,  seated 
him,  and  then  himself  took  a  seat  by  his  side ;  and  the 
ladies  composed  themselves  in  their  chairs  again.  One 
who  had  a  pretty  foot,  managed  to  protrude  it  a  little 
beyond  her  gown, — another  with  a  swan-like  neck,  sat 
a  model  for  a  goose, — the  back  of  another  who  had  a 
delightfully  taper  waist,  seemed  to  have  cut  all  acquaint 
ance  with  the  back  of  her  chair, — a  tremendous  India 
carved  comb,  which  had  strayed  to  Cedarville,  came 
near  putting  out  Dilworth's  eyes,  by  the  anxiety  of  its 
wearer  to  compel  the  pedagogue  to  look  at  it, — Miss 
A's  beautiful  hand  was  exhibited  in  a  thousand  ways, — 
Miss  B's  beautiful  new  reticule  was  continually  in  re 
quisition, — Miss  C's  cambric  kerchief  scattered  the 
odors  of  otto  of  rose  incessantly, — Miss  D's — but  we 
have  got  far  enough  in  the  alphabet  of  the  preliminary 
preparations  of  the  "  fishers  of  men,"  whose  baits  were 
preparing  to  capture  the  heart  of  Mr  Dilworth  Acci 
dence.  The  beaux,  whose  arrival  had  occurred  just 
before  that  of  the  schoolmaster,  eyed  the  fire  as  if  they 
were  solving  the  question,  how  much  ashes  can  be  pro 
duced  from  a  given  quantity  of  wood.  Mr  Pimento 
proudly  regarded  the  wonderful  schoolmaster  as  almost 
a  being  of  his  own  creation ;  and,  as  they  sat  in  silence 


46  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

all,  debated  with  himself  how  far  the  presence  of  the 
man  who  kept  a  room  full  of  women  silent,  would  have 
the  same  desirable  effect  upon  Mrs  Pimento,  if  he  en 
gaged  him  as  a  boarder.  The  ice  was  not  broken  till 
just  at  the  moment  the  party  broke  up,  when  Messrs 
the  Editor  and  Schoolmaster  shewed  signs  of  vitality, 
and  commenced  a  critical  discussion  upon  the  merits 
of  Perry's  Spelling-book.  Nothing  remarkable  occurred 
at  the  cloaking  and  hooding,  except  that  Mr  Accidence 
offered  his  services  to  see  no  damsel  home,  thereby 
offending  just  one  more  unmarried  lady  than  he  would 
have  done  by  being  gallant.  And  so  they  separated, 
the  beaux  relieved  of  a  portion  of  their  jealous  fears, 
and  assisting  the  belles,  as  they  walked  home,  to  expa 
tiate  upon  the  merits  of  the  stranger  ;  and  the  married 
couples  consulting  how  long  they  could  in  decency  pro 
crastinate  a  reciprocation  of  Mr  and  Mrs  Pimento's 
civility. 

A  volume  would  not  contain  the  history  of  all  the 
manoeuvres  of  all  the  fishers  of  men  in  Cedaryille,  to 
entrap  Mr  Dilworth  Accidence.  Miss  Judith  Prim 
rose, 

"Thin,  spare  and  forty-three," 

president-ess  of  the  Dorcas  Society,  proposed  and  car 
ried  a  resolve,  that  gentlemen  should  be  admitted  as 
honorary  members,  and  Mr  Accidence  was  accordingly 
voted  in.  Miss  Nightingale,  leader  of  the  female  sing 
ers  in  the  village-choir,  screamed  herself  hoarse  in  the 
Ode  to  Science,  on  the  first  occasion  that  the  school 
master  was  present  at  a  sing ;  and  Miss  Seraphine 
Hugg,  a  young  lady  who  at  fifteen  had  read  every  novel 
within  her  reach,  suddenly  discovered  that  her  educa 
tion  was  lamentably  deficient,  and  put  herself  unde? 


A     WINTER     IN      CEDARVILLE.  47 

the  tuition  of  Mr  Accidence.  The  devout  were  unu 
sually  devout,  when  it  was  ascertained  that  the  peda 
gogue  was  a  constant  attendant  at  church  and  conven 
ticle.  A  Reading  Society  was  set  on  foot,  because 
"  the  master"  happened  to  drop  a  hint  of  the  plan  of 
one  with  which  he  had  been  formerly  connected. 
Albums  were  piled  upon  his  table  by  the  dozen,  and 
deep  were  the  studies  of  the  owners  to  torture  his  offer 
ings  into  something  tender,  or  to  discover  a  hidden 
meaning. 

All  this  worked  admirably  well  for  the  comfort  of 
Mr  Dilworth,  who  was  no  contenmer  of  the  good  things 
of  this  life,  as  it  gave  him  an  entree  to  all  houses  where 
there  were  marriageable  daughters,  or  daughters  who 
longed  to  be  thought  so.  But,  with  an  enviable  tact  at 
"  dodging  the  question,"  he  kept  all  his  admirers  in 
suspense.  No  story  of  his  devotedness  to  one  particu 
lar  star  could  obtain  among  the  women,  as  each  was 
slow  to  believe  he  could  be  otherwise  appropriated  than 
to  herself.  So  waned  the  winter.  The  boys  improved 
wonderfully  (so  said  the  sisters,)  under  Dil worth's  tuition 
— the  girls,  as  girls  in  a  district  school  always  do,  im 
proved  as  they  pleased.  Examination-day  came,  and 
passed.  The  opinion  of  the  generous  public  of  Cedar- 
ville  was  unanimous  in  favor  of  our  hero,  and  serious 
thoughts  were  entertained  of  getting  up  a  subscription 
school,  to  be  taught  during  the  summer  months.  At 
any  rate,  the  women  were  decided  in  opinion,  that  the 
least  which  could  be  done  for  so  excellent  an  instructor, 
was  to  engage  him  to  teach  the  school  for  the  next 
winter.  The  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser  was 
grandiloquent  in  its  praises.  The  school  had  not  ap 
peared  so  well  "  at  any  time  within  the  memory  of  the 


48  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

oldest  inhabitants."  A  "  sonnet "  upon  education  in 
general,  and  Mr  Dilworth's  school  in  particular,  ap 
peared  in  the  columns  of  the  same  paper,  and  was  at 
tributed  to  the  pen  of  Miss  Seraphine  Hugg,  who,  by 
the  way,  we  should  have  before  stated,  was  the  sister 
of  our  editorial  friend. 

As  a  wind-up, to  the  winter  campaign  against  the  ob 
durate  heart  of  Accidence,  Mr  Pimento  gave  the  closing 
party  for  the  season.  All-  the  elite  of  the  village  fishers 
were  there,  desperately  intent  upon  improving  the  last 
opportunity  of  angling  for  Mr  Dilvvorth  Accidence. 
Generally  punctual  though  he  had  hitherto  been,  at  all 
such  meetings,  all  the  company  were  fully  assembled 
on  this  occasion,  and  still  the  pedagogue  came  not.  As 
a  matter  of  course,  the  conversation  turned  altogether 
upon  the  expected  guest. 

"  He  is  a  delightful  man,"  said  Miss  Seraphine  Hugg  ; 
"  so  sentimental !  " 

"  An  excellent  teacher,"  said  Mr  Pimento  ;  "  so 
reasonable  in  his  price !  " 

"A  beautiful  writer,"  said  Mr  Editor  Hugg;  "you 
have  undoubtedly  noticed  his  articles  in  the  Universal 
Advertiser,  over  the  initials  D.  A." 

"  Oh  yes,"  cried  all  in  chorus  ;  "  an  elegant  writer  !  " 

"  A  writer  of  the  first  chop,"  said  Mr  Pimento. 
"  He  bought  a  whole  rim  of  paper  at  my  store." 

"And  so  charitable!"  said 'Miss  Judith  Primrose, 
president-ess  of  the  Dorcas  Society. 

"And  so  devout!"  said  Miss  Bunyan.  "I  really 
wish  there  were  more  such  young  men  in  town." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  Parson  Monotonous,  who  recollected 
that  Dilworth  had  on  many  occasions  resolutely  kept 
awake,  when  all  the  other  males  in  the  house  had 


A      WINTER      IN     CEDARVILLE.  49 

sunk  to  sleep,  under  the  soporific  influence  of  his 
sermons. 

"  And  such  a  singer  !  "  said  Miss  Nightingale. 

"  He  walks  so  gracefully  ! "  said  Miss  with  the  pretty 
foot. 

"  And  has  such  an  idea  of  symmetry !  "  said  she  of 
the  taper  waist. 

"  And  such  a  taste  for  dress ! "  said  the  lady  of  the 
India  comb. 

"  Such  genteel  manners  ;  he  hands  one  over  a  stile 
so  gallantly  ! "  said  Miss  A.  of  the  beautiful  hand. 

"  He  picks  up  a  handkerchief  or  a  bag  so  politely ! " 
said  she  of  the  elegant  reticule. 

"  And  he  uses  such  splendid  cologne  !  "  said  Miss  of 
the  scented  kerchief. 

"  And  reads  with  such  an  accent  and  emphasis  !  " 
said  Miss  Indigo,  who  founded  the  Reading  Society. 

"  And  wrote  so  delightfully  in  my  album  !  " — "  and 
in  mine!" — "and  mine!" — "and  mine!" — they  all 
cried,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

It  was  unanimously  resolved  that  the  subscription 
school  for  the  summer  months  should  be  got  up,  and 
Mr  Editor  Hugg  had  commenced  to  prepare  a  paper 
for  signatures,  when  Mr  Pimento's  "help"  made  her 
appearance,  with  a  note  addressed  to  "  Long-Primer 
Hugg,  Esquire,  Editor  of  the  Cedarville  Universal  Ad 
vertiser,"  who,  after  running  it  over,  stated  that  it  was 
an  apology  for  non-appearance  from  Mr  Accidence,  and 
read  as  follows  : — 

" '  Mr  Dilworth  Accidence's  compliments  to  Mr 
Hugg,  and  begs  he  will  do  him  the  favor  to  apologize 
to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  at  Mr  Pimento's  this  even- 


50  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

ing.     His   WIFE    and  FAMILY  having  just   arrived   in 
town — '  "  &LC.  &c. 

There  was  a  dead  pause.  The  mouths  of  the  belles 
started  agape  with  astonishment,  the  heads  of  the 
beaux  rose  with  a  simultaneous  movement,  and  the 
smiles  that  irradiated  their  countenances,  contrasted, 
oddly  enough,  with  the  lugubrious  aspects  of  the  fair 
half  of  the  assembly.  Silence  at  length  was  broken — 
conversation  became  animated — and  how  the  deuce  it 
took  such  a  turn  as  it  did,  we  cannot  say,  but  the 
following,  among  other  things,  were  certainly  uttered. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  about  his  charity,"  said  Miss  Ju 
dith  Primrose.  "  He  never  gave  the  Dorcas  Society 
any  thing  but  a  pair  of  cast-off  pantaloons." 

"/don't  think  his  writing  so  very  finished  and  ele 
gant,"  said  Miss  Seraphine  Hugg.  "  Do  you,  brother  ?" 

"  Why — ah — really — no,"  said  Long-Primer  Hugg, 
Esquire,  who  vacillated  between  the  fear  of  offending 
his  sister,  and  the  hope  of  obtaining  something  more 
from  Mr  Accidence,  in  the  shape  of  "  original  matter." 

And  all  present  nodded  assent  to  the  denunciation  ! 

"  He  \ia.'rit  paid  for  that  rim  of  paper  yet,"  said  Pi 
mento,  with  a  thought  for  his  unmarried  daughters. 

"  I  must  acknowledge  I  have  suspected  his  piety," 
said  Miss  Bunyan. 

"  '  There  is -none  that  doeth  good  ;  no,  not  one  ! '  ' 
said  Parson  Monotonous,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh,  as  he 
thought  upon  the  two  Misses  Monotonous. 

"  He  always  puts  me  out  when  I  sing  with  him," 
said  Miss  Nightingale. 

"  Such  an  awkward  foot  as  he  has ! "  said  Cin 
derella. 

"  Such  a  clumsy  form !  "  said  the  Taper  "Waist. 


A      WINTER      IN      CEDARVILLE.  51 

"  Such  a  home-spun  dress  !  "  said  the  India  Comb. 

"  He  almost  broke  my  neck  yesterday,  in  twitching 
me  over  the  stile,"  said  Little  Hands. 

"  He  broke  the  clasp  of  my  indispensable,"  said  Miss 
Reticule. 

"  I  should  think  his  cologne  was  New  England  rum," 
said  Scented  Handkerchief." 

"  He  does  so  abuse  the  King's  English  !  "  said  Miss 
Indigo. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  I  let  him  scrawl  in  my  album  !  " 
— "  and  I !  "— "  and  I  !  "— "  and  I !  "—and  they  were 
all  sorry. 

"  I  don't  know  about  his  teachin'  so  reasonable," 
said  Pimento.  "  Guess  we  paid  him  all  he  was  worth." 

And  so  they  all  guessed,  and  Mr  Editor  Hugg's 
"  Prospectus  for  a  subscription  school,  to  be  taught  by 
Mr  Dilworth  Accidence,"  was  thrown  under  the  table. 
****** 

Mr  Dilworth  Accidence  was  not  long  in  finding 
which  way  the  wind  lay.  The  subscription  school,  in 
the  hope  of  which  he  had  invited  his  wife  to  Cedar- 
ville,  was  blown  over,  and  he  received  not  even  an 
invitation  to  teach  the  next  winter  school, — and  de 
camped.  He  did  not  get  away,  however,  before  Mr 
Pimento  made  him  pay  for  the  rim  of  paper,  and  Long- 
Primer  Hugg,  Esq.  took  care  to  get  fifty  cents  for  Dil- 
worth's  three  month's  subscription  to  the  Cedarville 
Universal  Advertiser,  notwithstanding  it  had  been  al 
ways  understood,  that  the  editor  was  very  much  obliged 
to  Mr  Accidence,  for  accepting  his  paper. 

The  next  Cedarville  Advertiser  contained  a  second 
article  upon  Dilworth's  school.  It  was  the  antipodes 
of  the  first  one,  and  commencing  with  "  In  what  we 


52  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

said  last  week,  we  did  not  mean  to  be  understood," 
&/C.,  went  on  to  place  Mr  Accidence  as  much  below 
par,  as  the  first  had  placed  him  above.  Miss  Judith 
Primrose  suddenly  discovered  that  it  was  unconstitu 
tional  to  admit  male  members  to  the  privileges  and  im 
munities  of  the  Dorcas  Society  ;  the  vote  to  admit  them 
was  reconsidered,  and  Mr  Accidence  was  expelled. 
The  Reading  Society  was  abandoned.  The  albums 
in  which  Dihvorth  practised  joining-hand,  were  muti 
lated  by  the  abstraction  of  the  leaves  upon  which  he 
wrote — and  thus  were  effaced  the  last  traces  of  the 
honors  paid  in  Cedarville  to  Mr  Dihvorth  Accidence. 


A    PET    IN    A    PET. 

TAP,  tap,  tap — a  very  pretty  foot,  cased  in  a  very  pretty 
shoe,  strikes  the  carpet.  The  mate  to  it  rests  on  an 
ottoman,  buried  in  its  thick  nap,  like  a  tiny  jet  sunk  in 
chased  gold.  Her  chin  is  supported  by  the  taper  fore 
finger  of  her  left  hand — a  beautiful  animate  paradox — 
for  while  the  chin  seems  of  no  weight  at  all,  the  finger 
is  bent  back  under  it.  The  loose  sleeve  of  a  morning 
dress  falling  back  to  the  elbow,  half  reveals  the  prettiest 
arm  in  the  world.  The  right  hand  hangs  over  the  edge 
of  a  dressing-table  as  the  arm  lays  along  upon  it,  and 
in  the  mirror  at  her  side  her  pretty  profile  is  reflected. 
We  wished  to  say  Grecian  profile — but  our  credit  as  an 
historian  !  Her  nose  is  a  most  decided  pug,  and  seems 
placed  upon  her  face  only  to  play  second  to  her  lips, 


APETINAPET.  53 

when,  as  at  the  moment  we  are  speaking  of,  they  pout 
displeasure.  Her  complexion  is  a  brunette,  her  eye 
brows  black,  and  as  beautifully  arched  as  Hogarth 
could  have  conceived,  when  he  described  the  line  of 
beauty.  Beneath  them,  a  pair  of  black  eyes  are  more 
than  half  concealed  by  the  envious  lids,  and  over  the 
moiety  visible,  the  long  black  lashes  drop  as  a  veil. 

Softly,  softly.  Those  lids  are  trembling — and  now 
a  pearly  drop  is  slowly  coursing  down  over  that  bit  of  a 
nose.  Another,  and  another  !  Alas  !  that  with  the  dis 
repute  which  has  fallen  upon  the  ancient  polytheism, 
the  gods  in  revenge  have  forgotten  their  vocation !  No 
little  invisible  Cupids  save  those  tears  to  dip  their 
arrows'  points  withal,  but  they  are  "  wasted  on  the  des 
ert  air  "  of  a  lady's  chamber.  Hark  !  she  speaks  ! 

"  Ruined  !  " 

Indeed,  poor  girl !  Another  item  to  be  added  to  the 
account-current,  which  has  long  been  accumulating 
against  faithless  man — another  tale  of  a  broken  heart, 
vouched  and  certificated — another  draft  on  his  affections 
dishonored  !  No  wonder  she  weeps. 

"  I  never  will  again  trust  a  man" — 

"  No  more  I  would,  Bell  !  "  said  her  sister,  who  had 
slipped  in  unperceived. 

Bell  jumped  up,  and  dashed  away  her  tears  right 
and  left,  with  a  grace  which  Mrs  Ternan  might  have 
studied.  "  Allow  me  to  finish  the  word  you  have  bitten 
off tua-maker  and  dress-maker." 

"Oh,  is  that  all?  I  thought  you  had  had  another 
flurry  with  Harry." 

"  Harry — odious!  it  is  quite  enough  to  think  of  him, 
when,  as  is  the  case  daily,  he  presents  his  beautiful  face, 
all  radiant  with  smiles  and  simpers — a  '  shining  morning 


54  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

face'  on  all  occasions,  morning,  noon  and  night — like 
an  everlasting  painting  of  a  Spring  scene,  the  same  at 
all  seasons,  though  ten  months  in  the  year  out  of  season. 
Always  uniform — always  alike — I  hate  him.  But  to 
talk  of  business.  My  dress  is  spoiled." 

"  And  therefore  fell  those  salt,  salt  tears  !  Well  I'm 
glad  to  see  that  you  are  a  reasonable  little  piece  of 
womanhood,  for  nothing  less  than  such  a  misfortune 
should  cause  such  an  extravagant  waste  of  woman's 
artillery.  But  I've  a  delightful  piece  of  gossip  for  you." 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  Yes — and  I'm  so  sorry." 

"  Pleased  and  sorrowful  in  a  breath !  Well  sister  of 
mine — why  ? — how  I  Read  me  the  riddle." 

"  I'm  sorry  you've  discarded  Harry." 

"  Thank  you/or  rather  let  him  thank  you.  But  take 
care,  Clara.  '  Pity  for  man  is  sister  to  love.'  " 

"  Don't  murder  a  quotation  to  warn  me — it  is  unneces 
sary,  because  too  late.  Harry  has  found  a  new  divinity 
— that's  the  delightful  bit  of  gossip, — and  it  won't  vex 
you,  now  '  that  bygones  are  bygones' — that's  what  I'm 
sorry  for.  It  is  a  shame." 

"What?"  said  Bell,  lifting  her  little  form,  till  it 
appeared  as  majestic  as  Titania,  spurning  a  pert  grass 
hopper.  "What!"  again,  her  swan-like  neck  moving 
with  all  the  grace  of  ill  suppressed  ire. 

"  Why,  that  Miss should  spoil  your  dress." 

"  Oh  !  "  and  Arabella  faced  her  glass,  and  schooled 
her  pretty  features  to  indifference — at  least  so  she  im 
agined.  Clara  read,  first,  deep  thought  and  uneasy,  in 
her  sister's  countenance,  then  abstraction. 

"  She  is  an  odious  creature." 

"  I  dare  say — if  to  his  taste." 


A      PET      IN      A      PET.  55 

"  His  taste  !  What  has  he-  to  do  with  a  fashionable 
milliner  ?  "  And  Clara  rubbed  her  hands,  in  unaffected 
glee.  "  I  say,  that  in  proportion  as  a  modiste  becomes 
fashionable,  she  grows  awkward." 

"True." 

"  You  need  not  sigh  assent  from  the  bottom  of  your 
heart,  though.  The  injury  is  not  irreparable." 

"  No  !  I  thank  Heaven,  too,  I  have  friends  who  will 
see  me  atoned.  John  shall  demand  an  explanation." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  Brother  John  will  appear  to  good  advan 
tage  scolding  a  milliner!" 

Arabella  took  her  sister  by  the  shoulder,  led  her  to 
the  door,  half  in  jest  and  half  in  anger,  and  locked  it 
after  her. 

"I  could  tell  you  something, — but  I  won't!"  the 
incorrigible  tormentor  screamed  through  the  key-hole. 
****** 

Clara  and  Arabella  were  listening  to  the  opera  of  the 
-Maid  of  Judah. 

"  A  beautiful  woman  !"  said  Clara. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? " 

"  Rebecca"— 

"Is  that  her  name?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  Scott's  Ivanhoe,  the  Jew  of 
York,  and  his  fair  daughter  1  I  declare,  Arabella,  I'm 
ashamed  of  you." 

At  this  moment,  another  lady  was  handed  down  be 
side  them.  Arabella  saw  she  was  pretty,  and  instituted 
a  silent  comparison  between  herself  and  the  stranger. 
Do  not  think  it  was  vanity,  it  wras  mere  absence.  The 
opera  she  did  not  care  a  fig  for — Rebecca  failed  as  en 
tirely  of  attracting  her  attention,  as  of  diverting  Brian 
de  Bois  Guilbert  from  his  purpose  of  detaining  her. 


5G  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

The  "  wood  notes  wild"  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry 
men  all,  might  quite  as  well  have  been  indeed 

All  by  the  shady  greenwood  tree, 

as  under  the  proscenium.  Presently,  she  lost  thought 
of  all — even  of  the  lady  at  her  side.  She  was  thinking 
of  her  spoiled  dress  no  doubt — it  was  so  provoking. 

"Mary!" 

The  stranger  turned,  and  so  did  Arabella — both 
knew  the  voice.  Henry  Walton  assisted  her  father  to 
take  the  fainting  Arabella  to  the  saloon,  and  called  a 
coach.  She  saw  nothing  of  him  that  night,  after  the 
glimpse  she  had  of  his  features,  as  he  put  his  head  over 
her  shoulder  to  speak  to  her  RIVAL. 

****** 

"  I  am  happy  to  find  you  so  well  recovered  from  your 
indisposition,  Arabella — I  feared,  last  night,  it  was 
something  serious." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr  Walton,"  said  Bell,  bridling. 

Silence  five  minutes. 

"  A  beautiful  day — I  think,  Arabella,  this  Indian 
Summer  more  than  half  atones  for  the  coquetry  of  our 
changeful  climate." 

"  Beautiful." 

Another  silence.  That  coquetry  was  an  unlucky 
word,  and  Bell  was  wrapped  in  self-accusation,  perhaps? 
Do  not  believe  it.  A  lady  never  pleads  guilty  to  that 
elegant  fault  till  she  is  no  longer  a  coquette! 

"  How  did  you  like  the  young  lady  who  sat  next  to 
you  last  evening  1 " 

Now  was  not  this  the  summit  of  assurance  ?  But 
Arabella  was  too  proud  to  take  offence  at  it.  She  liked 
her  appearance  very  much. 


A      PET      IN      A      PET.  57 

Henry  promised  her  an  introduction — engaged  that 
the  two  should  be  dear  friends — he  hoped  so — for  he 
trusted  they  would  be  thrown  together  a  great  deal ! 

Worse  and  worse  !  Arabella  was  puzzled.  In  bound 
ed  her  merciless  sister,  Clara. 

"Now  do  you  know,  Henry,  what  ails  Bell?  I  am 
going  to  tell  you" — Arabella  turned  pale — "it  is  all 
about  a  spoiled  dress." 

"  Impossible  !"   said  Henry,  astonished. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  though.  Yesterday  morning  I  left 
her,  to  run  into  Washington  Street,  where  I  met  you 
and  Mary,  and  when  I  came  back,  don't  you  think" — 

Arabella  was  staggering  to  the  bell — her  finger  just 
touched  the  pull — and  Henry  caught  her  in  time  to  save 
her  a  fall.  Clara,  frightened,  gave  the  bell  a  jerk  that 
brought  the  pull  about  her  ears,  and  then,  without  wait 
ing  an  answer  to  the  summons,  darted  out  of  the  room. 
When  she  returned,  at  the  head  of  all  the  domestic 
forces,  Bell  was  quite  recovered.  Henry  had  just  fin 
ished  saying  something  of  which  the  last  word  was 
"  sister  " — Bell's  lips  were  parted  to  answer — her  eye 
caught  Clara's — fell  again — the  blood  forsook  her  face — 

"  Now  don't  faint  again,  Bell,  don't !  " 

And  she  did  not. 

Into  a  clear  carnation  sudden  dyed— 
Her  cheeks  put  their  first  paleness  to  the  blush. 


A  ring's  put  on — a  prayer  or  two  is  said, 
You're  man  and  wile,  and — nothing  more. 

Henry  Walton  came  from  Trinity  Church  with  a 
lady  on  either  arm,  his  wife  and  his  sister.  He  handed 
the  mischief-loving  Clara  into  the  coach  after  them, 


53  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

and  then  stepped  in  himself.  Thus  was  filled  the  first 
coach  of  a  merry  three,  which  drove  out  to  Hingham 
to  rusticate  for  a  day  and  a  half — as  if  somebody  had 
done  something,  of  which  some  one  felt  ashamed,  and 
wished  to  drive  somewhere  to  conceal  it. 


THE    POSTSCRIPT. 

1  WROTE  her  a  billet-doux  anxious, 

On  a  gilt  sheet  of  Gilpin's  hot-pressed  ; 
The  device  on  the  seal  was  a  Cupid, 

With  a  wreath  of  heart's-ease  for  a  crest : 
I  begged,  that  if  not  for  her  own  sake, 

And  if  not  for  love's  sake,  or  for  mine, 
That  for  conscience  sake,  she  would  her  dollars 

And  herself,  to  my  keeping  resign. 

I  swore  I  was  raving  distracted, 

And  declared  I  was   dying — was  dead — 
That  the  lamp  of  my  life  in  the  socket 

Would  go  out  with  my  life,  if  not  fed. 
And  then,  if  your  conscience  should  render 

A  true  verdict,  '  manslaughter, '  I  pray 
Could  you,  heartless  maiden,  ever  hope  for 

One  unclouded,  or  one  happy  day  ? 

No  lady  has  ever  resisted 

Such  a  fervent  and  heart-searching  tone  ;          , 
At  all  events  ne'er  when  of  lovers 

She  can  muster  but  one — single  one  ! 
The  penny-post  ne'er  was  intended 

To  transport  flames  and  darts  and  such  things  ; 


RETROSPECTION.  59 

So  she  answered  with  proper  discretion, 
By  a  Cupid,  with  bishop-sleeve  wings. 

Page  first  was  a  volume  of  scandal  : 

Ditto,  ditto  was  page  number  two — 
Interspersed  with  scraps  French  and  Italian — 

Bah  !  has — Oh  !    indeed  'twas  has  bleu  ! 
Page  third  was  in  raptures — ecstatics, 

With  the  opera  and  sweet  Mrs  Wood — 
As,  like  thousands  of  others,  she'd  pass  for 

A  critique,  amateur, — if  she  could  ! 

My  suit  not  replied  to  !  "  you  cruel  !  " — 

I  began  in  my  anguish  to  roar, 
When  a  few  lines  by  chance  I  detected 

On  the  comer  of  page  number  four. 
P.  S.  "  I'd  forgotten  your  letter, 

Though  perhaps  I  should  speak  thereanent  ; 
I  have  spoken  to  father  and  mother, 

And  they  say  that  we  have  their  consent.  " 


RETROSPECTION. 

THE  apparent  shortness  of  time  past  has  been  com 
mented  upon  by  prose-writer  and  poet,  in  all  languages, 
and  in  all  styles  in  every  language.  But  nobody  ever 
happened  to  express  himself  better  upon  the  subject 
than  Franklin.  Plain,  brief,  and  poetical, — the  poetry 
of  method,  like  his  life.  "  In  looking  back,  how  short 
the  time  seems  !  I  suppose  that  all  the  passages  of  our 
lives  that  we  have  forgotten,  being  so  many  links  taken 
out  of  the  chain,  give  the  more  distant  parts  leave,  as 
it  were,  to  come  apparently  nearer  together." 


60  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 


THE    OLD     SOLDIER. 

HE  had  been  to  the  Pension  Office.  The  generosity — 
if  generosity  consists  in  deferring  a  benefit  until  the 
recipient  is  past  the  enjoyment  of  it, — or  the  justice — if 
justice  consists  in  withholding  the  veteran's  due  till  he 
is  ready  to  go  down  to  the  grave,  (generosity  or  justice 
— call  it  what  you  will,  we  can  call  it  neither,)  had,  at 
last,  awarded  him  his  pension.  An  infirm  old  man  ! — 
The  burden  of  old  age  and  hope  deferred  had  made  him 
sick  at  heart,  and  sick  of  life.  The  death  film  was  even 
now  measurably  drawn  over  the  eye,  once  sparkling  ; 
the  pace  which  was  once  firm  and  confident  in  the 
strength  of  youth,  and  the  pride  of  patriotism,  had 
become  irregular  and  tottering  ;  and  the  manly  form, 
once  erect  and  commanding,  was  bowed  down — age  and 
suffering  had  done  it.  He  was  a  stranger  in  the  metro 
polis  ;  infirmity  and  neglect  had  broken  down  his  body, 
but  his  spirit  could  better  sustain  itself;  and  a  bitter 
sense  of  the  neglect  he  had  suffered  from  those  who 
should  have  remembered  him,  had  kept  him  in  solitude. 
He  would  not  offer  a  living  comparison  between  the  men 
who  achieved,  and  the  men  who  have  profited  by  the 
achievement,  without  exertion  of  their  own.  The  con 
scious  victim  of  cruel  neglect  and  ingratitude,  he  con 
sidered  the  tardy  justice  of  his  country  a  mockery,  and 
nought  but  his  abject  poverty,  and  a  wish  to  die  "  square 
with  the  world,  "  had  induced  him  to  apply  for  it.  "  And 
now,"  said  he,  "  I  will  pay  my  debts — and  die."  The 
change  of  objects  in  the  city  bewildered  him.  He 


THE     OLD      SOLDIER.  61 

gazed  upon  the  spacious  and  elegant  edifices  which  had 
in  his  absence  superseded  ohl  and  familiar  objects, — 
but  he  gazed  with  hurried  and  uncertain  glances,  as  if 
doubting  his  senses.  The  bustling  forms  of  a  genera 
tion  who  have  forgotten  the  Revolution,  flitted  past  him 
•without  heeding  him,— the  pensioner  was  alone  in  the 
city  !  Amazod  that  the  lapse  of  time  had  wrought  such 
wonders,  he  felt  like  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  and 
that,  too,  on  the  very  soil  he  had  defended. 

His  venerable  appearance  attracted  the  notice  of  a 
passer-by,  who,  perceiving  the  old  man  was  bewildered, 
tendered  his  services  to  conduct  him  home.  "Home! 
I  have  no  home.  I  was  at  home  here  in  '76,  but  I  am 
forgotten  now  ! "  A  transient  gleam  of  anger  flashed 
in  the  veteran's  eye — but  in  a  moment  it  passed  away, 
imd  the  vacancy  of  his  countenance  returned.  "Where 
am  I?  Oh  !  I  have  been  to  take  the  gift  of  Congress — 
let  me  go  pay  my  debts  before  I  die."  The  gift ! — 
here  again  his  eye  was  lighted — and  his  bearing  spoke 
the  proud  and  wounded  spirit — broken,  but  not  subdued. 
An  honest  feeling  of  indignation  mastered  him;  striving, 
as  if  strong  in  the  pride  of  youth,  to  avoid  the  unfeel 
ing  and  impertinent  curiosity  of  the  crowd  who  sur 
rounded  him,  he  sank  exhausted  to  the  pavement. 

"  Take  him  to  the  police-office,  for  a  vagrant  !  "  said 
one  of  the  crowd. 

"Take  yourself  off,  for  an  unfeelingr brute !"  said 
the  honest  fellow  who  had  first  addressed  the  veteran. 
"  But," — catching  him  by  the  collar  as  he  essayed  to 
walk  away, — "  stop  first,  and  give  me  the  old  man's 
pocket-book !  I  saw  you  take  it — hand  over,  or  I'll  tear 
you  limb  from  limb  !  "  "  Throttle  him,"  cried  one  of 

the  crowd — "a  scoundrel!  rob  a  pensioner  !  "    "  Down 
6 


t»J  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

with  him!"  "Strip  him!"  "  Take  him  to  the  po 
lice  ! "  and  the  old  man's  wallet  fell  from  the  culprit  in 
the  scuffle. 

The  pensioner  was  recognised  by  some  one  in  the 
crowd,  and  he  passively  suffered  himself  to  be  put  into 
a  coach.  He  was  conveyed  to  a  shelter,  and  having 
happily  fallen  into  good  hands,  attention  for  a  couple 
of  days  partially  restored  his  exhausted  energies.  An 
indistinct  remembrance  of  the  events  we  have  narrated 
flitted  occasionally  across  his  mind,  but  he  remembered 
the  events  of  '76  better  than  those  of  yesterday,  and 
the  countenances  of  those  who  had  been  his  companions 
in  arms  were  more  distinctly  marked  in  his  memory, 
than  the  new  ones  he  had  seen  the  day  before.  When 
about  to  be  put  on  board  the  stage  to  be  conveyed 
home,  the  old  man's  mind  again  wandered.  "  That's 
right — carry  me  to  Congress — give  me  my  due,  I  have 
fought  for  it !  Congress  said  I  should  have  it !  "  The 
old  man's  wallet  was  put  into  his  hand.  "  Oh,  yes,  I 
knew  I  should  get  it ;  they  could  not  so  soon  forget  the 
•old  soldier ;  but  so  late — let  me  pay  my  debts  and  die  ! 
I  can  live  no  longer  !  But  somebody  stole  it — they  got 
it  away  from  me  ;  they  couldn't  do  it  fifty  years  ago ! 
but  I've  got  it  now,  hav'n't  I  ?  No,  they  didn't  keep  it 
— they  would  steal  the  old  man's  money  !  They  could 
not  keep  it — the  God  of  battles  would  blast  them  for  it. 
God  have  mercy  on  them — they  didn't  fight  for  it ! — 
Let  me  pay  my  debts  and  die  !  My  children  are  all 
dead — my  wife  died  in — in — the — poor-house — and  me 
— I  don't  want  to  live  any  longer — nobody  knows  me 
now — let  me  die  !  " 

The  stage  stopped  at .  Hitherto  during  the  ride 

the  old  man  had  been  silent.  Forgetful  of  the  resent. 


THE      OLD      SOLDIER.  63 

inattentive  to  things  about  him,  his  mind  was  back 
among  other  scenes.  A  long,  long  reverie, — and  one 
from  which  he  was  never  to  awaken  !  His  lips  moved 
rapidly,  though  no  sound  was  audible  ;  involuntary  and 
spasmodic  emotions  evinced  the  activity  of  his  mind. 
He  was  busily  communing  with  the  friends,  and  review 
ing  the  events  of  his  youth.  Poor  old  man  !  fifty  years 
since  seemed  to  him  but  as  yesterday.  One  of  the  lone 
isolated  survivors  of  another  and  a  better  race,  he  had 
no  communion  with  those  about  him.  Dwelling  upon 
the  hardships,  the  privations,  the  dangers,  the  escapes, 
the  victories  of  another  age,  his  frame,  infirm  and  old, 
could  not  support  the  recollection,  as  once,  in  the  day  of 
his  strength,  he  withstood  the  reality  ! 

"  Hark  !"  murmured  the  old  man.  All  eyes  turned 
towards  him.  He  raised  himself  on  his  staff  and  leaned 
forward.  His  eyes  beamed  with  supernatural  animation, 
and  contrasted  fearfully  with  his  shrunken  counte 
nance  ;  his  hat  had  fallen,  and  his  silver  locks  moved 
on  the  light  air — his  lips  compressed — his  posture 
firm  !  Oh  God  !  was  it  his  death-struggle  ?  The  roll 
of  a  distant  drum  fell  on  his  ear — he  grasped  his  staff 
firmly  as  once  he  had  held  his  firelock.  A  bugle 
sounded  clear  and  full  beside  the  coach — "  For  Con 
gress  and  the  People,  cha — !  "  His  voice  ceased,  he 
fell  back  to  his  seat,  a  husky  rattling  in  his  throat  suc 
ceeded 

The  spirit  of  the  Revolutionary  Patriot  had  departed. 


64  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 


BACCHANALIAN     SONG. 

Where  shall  the  anxious  mind 

A  respite  find  from  sorrow  ? 

Oh,  where  forgetfulness  seek, 

Of  the  woes  in  reserve  for  to-morrow  ? 

Lethe !    Lethe  ! 

Thou  wert  wont  to  be  found  in  a  river's  roll; 
We  find  thee  now  in  the  flowing,  flowing  bowl. 

Lethe  !  Lethe  ! 

Lethe  !  thy  floods  of  yore, 

Denied  to  weary  mortals, 
Were  only  drank  by  those 

Who  had  passed  th'  Elysian  portals  ; 

Lethe  !  Lethe  ! 

Thou  wert  wont  to  be  found  in  a  river's  loll; 
We  find  thee  now  in  a  flowing,  flowing  bowl. 

Lethe  !  Lethe  J 

Our  modern  Lethe  is 

For  mortals  sad,  who  need  it ; 
Though  sorrow  come  to-day, 
To-night  we  will  not  heed  it ! 

Lethe  !  Lethe ! 

For  Oblivion's  wave  shall  over  it  roll; 
We  '11  drown  all  grief  in  a  flowing,  flowing  bowl. 

Lethe  !  Lethe  ! 

Here  shall  the  anxious  mind 

A  respite  find  from  sorrow  ! 
Drink,  fellows  !  drink  to-night  ! 
We  may  not  drink  to-morrow. 

Lethe  !  Lethe  ! 

Thou  wert  wont  to  be  found  in  a  river's  roll; 
We  find  thee  now  in  a  flowing,  flowing  bowl. 

Lethe  !  Lethe  ! 


THE     MARTYR     TO      SCIENCE.  C5 


THE    MARTYR    TO    SCIENCE. 

The  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head.. 

How  the  following  fell  into  my  hands  is  nobody's  busi 
ness.  Let  that  be  as  it  will,  a  combination  of  the  organs 
of  Love  of  Approbation  and  Benevolence  induces  me 
to  offer  it  to  the  reader ;  Love  of  Approbation  makes 
me  hope  that  some  persons  may  give  me  the  credit  of 
the  authorship, — the  merit  of  revision  I  claim, — and 
Benevolence  leads  me  to  trust  that  my  readers  will  all 
be  vastly  edified  by  the  perusal  of  the  pleasant  tragedy 
hereinafter  set  forth.  The  hero  of  the  sketch  is  not 
living  now.  Query,  was  he  ever  ? 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

I  had  been  absent  ftom  Boston  several  years — long 
enough  for  the  inhabitants  of  that  good  city  to  create 
and  ride  to  death  hobbies  innumerable,  and  leave  sur 
viving  the  usual  large  proportion,  to  the  trash,  of  really 
praiseworthy  and  excellent  institutions.  Among  those 
of  late  years,  the  establishment  of  the  cemetery  at 
Mount  Auburn  is  not  the  least.  I  was  proud  of  my 
native  city,  when,  in  a  distant  land,  I  heard  of  it, — 
proving,  as  it  does,  what  with  us  needs  no  proof, — add 
ing  another  to  the  numberless  evidences  extant,  that 
Yankees  are  not  all  sordid.  Among  my  first  pilgrima 
ges  after  my  landing,  was  one  to  this  spot.  I  did  not 
stop  at  the  entrance,  with  F.  A.  B.,  to  complain  of  the 
gateway.  If  there  be  happiness  beyond  death,  what 
matter  how  we  reach  it,  so  that  the  transit  be  quick,  or 
6* 


66  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

not  too  painful,  and  the  gentle  whispers  of  a  conscience 
void  of  offence  lull  the  sinking  body  to  its  long,  last 
sleep  1  If  the  grave  be  peaceful  and  holy,  and  the  spot 
betoken  the  respect  of  the  living  for  the  dead,  what 
matters  it  whether  the  approach  he  beneath  wood  or 
marble  ? 

It  was  the  still  noon  of  an  Autumn  day.  The  gentle 
waving  of  the  zephyr  among  the  foliage,  just  detached 
here  and  there  a  "  sere  and  yellow  leaf,"  which  went 
floating,  sinking,  almost  imperceptible  in  its  motion,  to 
the  earth, — escaping  like  the  half-breathed  sigh  from  a 
death-bed, — and  intimating,  by  the  very  peace  of  the 
scene — death's  sweetest  attribute — the  death  of  the 
year.  The  sun  rode  the  heavens  in  all  the  clear,  dry 
brightness  of  October, — myself  and  one  person  else 
were  the  only  beings  visible  in  this  garden  of  death, — 
and  the  solitude  was  undisturbed  by  the  voice  of  living 
thing.  The  stranger  was  standing  near  a  marble  mon 
ument — I  approached  it.  Upon  it  was  inscribed  the 

single  word — 

SPURZHE.IM. 

I  do  reverence  the  great  dead — and  such,  this  simply 
majestic  inscription  bespoke  him  who  reposed  beneath. 
I  uncovered,  and  knelt  to  his  memory.  I  beg  pardon 
for  my  then  utter  ignorance  upon  a  subject  which  it  is 
now  unpardonable  not  to  know ;  I  had  not  even  a  guess 
at  the  character  or  opinions  of  the  apostle  of  the  new 
science.  I  crave  indulgence  for  my  idolatry,  too,  and 
submit  to  casuists  whether  my  worship  of  the  unknown, 
or  the  devotion  of  deep  disciples,  be  the  more  criminal. 
But  the  scene  and  its  features,  its  breathless  stillness, 
its  associations,  awed  and  mastered  me.  I  knelt.  I 
confess  that  my  devotion  was,  in  a  measure,  fashiona- 


THE     MARTYR     TO     SCIENCE.  67 

blej — an  outward  seeming  only ;  and,  after  the  first 
feeling  of  awe,  curiosity  was  paramount.  Bat  I  dared 
put  no  questions  to  the  solemn-looking  gentleman  in 
black,  who  stood  near  me— 1  could  not  interrupt  him 
with  queries,  which  would  at  once  proclaim  my  igno 
rance  and  lack  of  veneration, — ^that  solemn  gentleman 
in  black  !  Sidelong  glances  at  him  showed  me  that  he 
was  even  then  apparently  impatient.  His  feet  were  in 
voluntarily  caught  up  alternately — -his  eyes  were  intently 
rivetted  upon  me — he  stretched  out  his  armsr  and  with 
drew  them — moved  his  lips,  muttered  to  himself,. — and 
altogether  conducted  so  like  one  beside  himself  at  my 
presence,  that  I  began  inwardly  to  reproach  myself 
with  having  intruded  upon  the  sanctity  of  private  grief, 
in  the  place,  of  all  places  sacred  to  its  indulgence. 
Presently  he  was,  at  one  stride,  beside  me,  and  placed 
both  hands  upon  my  head.  He  is  blessing  me  for  my 
sympathy,  thought  I.  He  passed  his  hands  hurriedly 
beneath  my  hair,  and  all  about  my  cranium.  It  is  the 
very  nervous  intensity  of  sorrow  ! — I  dared  not  speak, 
or  look  up. 

"  Veneration  small,"  he  began  to  utter,  in  the  tone 
of  soliloquy — I  would  have  given  a  world,  almost,  to 
have  changed  places  with  the  tenant  of  the  tomb  be 
fore  us.  "  How  can  it  be?  Oh  !  "  passing  both  hands 
to  my  forehead,  "Benevolence  and  Imitation  large;" 
true,  thought  I,  that  is  the  stuff  mourners  are  too  often 
made  of — but  how  the  deuce  does  he  read  me  ?  "  A 
hypocrite  1 " — the  perspiration  started — "  No-,  not  ex 
actly,  not  Secretiveness  enough  :  " — what  new  Boston 
notion  is  all  this  ?  "  A  phenomenon  !  "  he  cried  aloud, 
"  a  phenomenon  !  Really,  sir,  you  have  a  very  re 
markable  head !" 


63  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

"  SIR  ! "  exclaimed  I,  rising  astonished  at  what  ap 
peared  to  me  incoherent  trifling  for  any  place,  and  par 
ticularly  irreverent  in  such  an  one. 

"  A  very  remarkable  head  !  I  wish  you  would  give 
it  me,  to  report  to  the  society  upon." 

"  Sir  !"  said  I  again,  eyeing  him  in  terrified  suspi 
cion,  and  starting  back,  with  both  hands  about  my 
neck. 

"  Your  head,  sir,  your  head  ;  Spurzheim  would  have 
paid  thousands  for  it" — I  looked  at  the  grave  of  the 
purchaser  of  heads  with  a  shudder — a  modern  Herod  ! 
"  Do  give  it  me,  or,"  advancing,  "  I'll  get  it  in  spite  of 
you." 

"  In  the  name  of  God,"  said  I,  in  the  low,  husky 
voice  of  horror,  "  have  the  resurrectionists  in  this 
country  become  Burkers  ?  In  broad  daylight,  too,  with 
so  much  deliberate  cruelty,  and  satanic  method  and 
civility  ? " 

"  A  very  good  actor — very  facetious — large  Imita 
tion — can't  support  it  long,  however — no  Secretiveness. 
To  be  serious,  an  enthusiast  like  you  must  have  had  a 
phrenological  estimate  made.  Let  me  see  it." 

"  No !  "  cried  I,  retreating,  and  catching  up  a  stone. 

"  Let  me  take  a  cast." 

"No!" 

"  Let  me  at  least  thoroughly  examine." 

"No!" 

"  Well,  this  is  really  carrying  the  joke  too  far." 

"  So  I  think,"  still  retreating. 

"  You  are  an  oddity,  and  your  head  must  be  invalu 
able." 

"  So  I  have  always  found  it,  and  will  keep  it  myself, 
with  your  permission." 


THE      MARTYR      TO      SCIENCE.  69 

"  Oh,  certainly, ha.!  ha  ! — you  are  very  amusing, ha  ! 
ha!— Mirthfulness  large.  But  do  answer  one  question 
— very  fine  head — do  you  approve  of  Combe's — " 

"  Combs  or  brushes — how  is  it  your  business  ?  "  said 
I,  not  a  little  piqued ;  and  I  walked  off  a*  a  round 
pace.  (N.  B.  My  barber  always  tells  me  I  do  not  know 
how  to  take  care  of  my  hair.)  I  left  the  strange  mortal 
laughing,  and  stole  behind  a  clump  of  trees  to  take  his 
dimensions  and  survey  his  dress,  almost  resolved  to  ad 
vertise  him  through  the  prints,  that  his  friends  might 
consign  him  to  the  place  provided  for  the  insane,  at 
Worcester.  At  any  rate,  I  was  determined  to  recollect 
his  person,  that 'I  might  give  information,  should  the 
crier  or  the  newspapers  ask  the  humane  to  confer  a 
favor  on  his  anxious  friends,  by  information  of  his  proba 
ble  whereabouts. 

The  morning's  adventure  did  not  impair  my  appetite. 
Brown  soup — I  like  soup, — boiled  goose  with  oyster- 
sauce,  boiled  lamb  with  capers — I  like  boiled, — a  bit 
of  roast  fowl,  roast  pork — I  like  roast, — apple  pie — I 
like  pastry, — disappeared  before  me  with  more  than 
their  wonted  celerity. 

"  Alimentiveness  large  !  " 

I  dropped  my  knife  and  fork  ;  the  last  bit  of  the  out 
side  crust  almost  choked  me.  Opposite,  but  unobserved 
before,  sat  my  friend  of  Mount  Auburn.  My  nether 
jaw  fell,  and  I  stared  full  in  his  face. 

"  Language  large,  indicated  by  prominence  of  the 
eyes." 

I  jumped  from  the  table.  "  Landlord  !  "  said  I,  tak 
ing  him  by  the  arm,  and  leading  him  to  the  dining- 
room  door,  "  Landlord  ! "  said  I,  in  a  whisper,  "  who 
is  that  gentleman  alone  at  the  table  ?  " 


70  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

"  Oh,  that's  Mr ,  the  Phrenologist." 

"  Oh!"  said  I,  as  if  perfectly  understanding — though 
it  was  unexplained  Greek  to  me. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  a  man,  entering  the  sitting-room 
with  a  paper  in  his  hand,  "  I  am  a  member  of  the 
Polish  Relief  Committee.  I  have  here  a  subscription 
paper — I  am  unacquainted  with  you  all,  but  I  shall  ask 
the  gentleman  to  head  it,  who  I  think  will  subscribe 

o  ' 

the  largest  sum." 

All  laughed  at  the  conceit — it  was  fashionable  to  be 
friend  the  Poles — so  nobody  took  offence.  He  walked 
about  the  room  to  each  gentleman  in  turn,  and  pitched 
upon  me.  I  wrote  my  name,  thrust  my  hand  in  my 
pocket  for  my  wallet,  half  cajoled  by  flattery,  as  many 
other  fools  have  been,  to  give  away  what  I  could  ill 
afford. 

"  But  first,"  said  I,  "  you  must  tell  me  why  you 
eelected  me?  " 

"  Your  Benevolence  is  large." 

"  You  know  me,  then,"  blushing — extremely  flattered 
— and  not  hesitating  to  appropriate  the  compliment. 

"  Oh,  no  sir,  but  your  head,  sir,  it  is  fully  developed 
— very,"  patting  my  forehead  with  the  familiarity  of  an 
uncle. 

"  Take  the  developement  for  the  deed,  then — not  a 
mill  do  you  get !  "  And  I  bounced  out  of  the  room, 
called  for  my  bill,  and  ordered  my  baggage  after  me  to 

the House.  The  house  I  left  used  to  be  one  of 

the  best  in  the  city — but  alas  !  a  worse  than  the  worst 
plagues  of  Egypt  had  come  up  into  the  eating-rooms 
and  the  parlor.  I  did  not  try  the  sleeping  chambers. 

At  the House,  I  supped  magnificently,  smoked 

like  a  Spanish  grandee,  slept  Hke  a  sultan  of  Persia, 


THE     MARTYR     TO     SCIENCE.  71 

and  rose  the  next  morning  with  no  more  Phrenology 
in  my  head,  than  if  the  head  had  nothing  to  do  with 
that  science.  I  did  indeed  hear  a  thin  sallow-looking 
dyspeptic  say  at  the  breakfast  table,  that  an  egg  he  was 
trying  to  crack  had  Firmness  full,  and  another  said 
Adhesiveness  was  astonishingly  developed  in  the  steak 
— but  I  -could  swallow  a  few  of  the  technicals  with  my 
breakfast,  as  long  as  there  was  no  attempt  at  practical 
application  on  myself. 

When  Sambo  brought  my  boots,  he  dropped  them  on 
my  feet,  almost  to  the  extinction  of  my  toes,  started 
back,  threw  up  his  paws,  and  ejaculated  between  a 
whistle  and  a  shout — 

"  Wor-r-r-r-a-a-a  ! " 

"  What's  the  matter,  Sambo  ?  " 

<{  Why,  it's  nex  to  noffin,  massa." 

"  What's  next  to  nothing  ?  " 

"  I  lose  de  skyentific  bet  I  made  wid  CufTee." 

"  W  hat  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Don't  see  how  you  'buse  you  boots,  massa  I  " 

"  Why,  you  snowball,  I  walked  about  in  them." 

"  No,  no,  massa }  dat's  impossible  !  " 

"You  infernal  Ethiopian,  do  you  tell  me  I  lie? 
Hav'n't  I  a  pair  of  legs,  and  feet  to  match  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  but  you  got  no  'cality." 

"  WHAT  !  " 

"  You  got  no  devil-opement  of  'cality,  none  at  all !  " 

There  was  no  question  of  the  power  of  my  foot  to 
overcome  Sambo's  vis  inertia,  whatever  might  hare 
been  his  disposition  to  travel.  I  paid  my  bill  and  left 
the House — but  not  without  getting  a  phreno 
logical  dab  from  the  clerk,  who  declared  I  lacked  Ac 
quisitiveness,  because  I  neglected  to  take  my  change 


7'4  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

from  the  counter.  I  bit  through  my  under  lip  to  stifle 
an  oath,  dashed  the  change  at  his  head,  seized  my 
portmanteau  and  cloak,  knocked  down  three  porters, 
\vho  offered  service,  and  walked,  half  a  mile  before 
dinner  to  the  house  of  an  aunt.  She  was  glad  to  see 
me.  Here,  at  least,  said  I,  mentally,  there  is  no  dan 
ger  from  Phrenology,  for  the  old  lady  has  read  nothing 
this  thirty  years,  but  the  Bible  and  Fox's  Book  of 
Martyrs. 

"Now  dear  John,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come;  you 
shall  go  to  the  lecture  with  me  to-night." 

"  Certainly,  aunt."  I  thought  it  might  be  the  pre 
paratory  for  the  Sabbath — or  a  lecture  against  Cath 
olicism — against  slavery — any  thing,  even  abolition, 
rather  than  Phrenology. 

"  I  attended  two  courses  last  Winter,"  she  continued, 
*'  but  I  can't  this.  I  must,  however,  go  one  night  with 
you,  just  to  see  Mr  Fowle,  and  ask  him  one  question." 

I  began  to  be  frightened. 

"  What  is  it,  aunt  ?  perhaps  I  can  tell  you." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  can  ;  I  never  thought.  I  want 
to  know  if  the  beast  spoken  of,  Revelations  xiii.  1,  you 
know  it  means  the  enemy,  John," — I  breathed  again, 
as  I  found  she  was  upon  scripture, — "  I  want  to  know 
if  that  ain't  a  figurative  type  to  be  explained,  the  seven 
heads  by  the  science  ?  " 

"  What  science,  aunt  ? "  said  I,  startled  again. 

"  Why,  Phrenology,  John." 

"  Oh  Lord  !  " 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  astonished  ;  but  hear  me,  and 
then  say  if  'tain't  reasonable." 

I  shut  my  eyes,  closed  my  teeth  hard  together,  and 
sat  in  mute  despair. 


THE      MARTYR     TO      SCIENCE.  73 

<(  First,  there's  Combativeness,  Revelations  xi.  7,  the 
beast  shall  make  war  against  the  witnesses ;  the  second 
is  Destructiveness,  he  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion, 
seeking  whom  he  may  destroy  ;  the  third  is  Imitation, 
he  can  appear  like  an  angel  of  light ;  the  fourth — but 
you  are  not  well,  John  ?  " 

"  No,  I  must  go  into  the  air." 

"  Leave  your  cloak  and  trunk  ? "' 

"  No  !  "  . 

*  #  *  #  *  * 

"  Take  a  hack  for  the  Providence  Rail-Road  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

In  the  cars  I  was  only  doomed  to  hear  of  a  man, 
whose  forehead,  by  comparing  two  charts,  grew  out 
like  a  horned  unicorn' sk  On  board  of  the  boat  the 
discourse  was  upon  Fulton's  Constructiveness.  In 
New  York  I  gained  flesh  on  two  paragraphs,  one  in 
the  Star  and  the  other  in  the  Courier,  which  spoke  of 
Phrenology  as  an  imposture,  as  it  deserves.  But  alas  ! 
there  is  no  peace  for  a  "  remarkable  head  !  "  I  caught 
a  fellow  one  morning  eyeing  me  suspiciously,  and  seeing 
an  advertisement  for  a  course  of  phrenological  lectures  in 
the  day's  papers,  I  took  boat  the  same  night  for  Albany. 
Thence  I  have  been  driven  to  Troy,  Rochester,  Utica 
and  Buffalo,  New  York,  to  Columbus  and  Cincinnati, 
Ohio,  down  the  river,  and  to  Little  Rock,  Arkansas. 
There  I  hoped  for  quiet, — but  no  !  a  restless  unit  of 
the  universal  Yankee  nation,  a  Mr  A.  Pike,  looked  sus 
piciously  and  inquisitively  at  me,  and  I  was  off  again. 
Now  I  am  at — but  no  matter !  Wheresoever  a  "  re 
markable  head "  is,  there  will  the  Phrenologists  be 
gathered  together.  I  will  buy  the  postmaster's  secrecy 
with  twice  his  annual  salary  and  perquisites,  and  nobody 


74  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

shall  hunt  me  out,  to  go  birds'  nesting  among  my  hair, 
for  the  eggs  of  this  new  science  ; — science  !  'tis  profa 
nation  thus  to  misapply  the  word  ! 

P.  S.  C'en  cst  fait — my  jig  is  up  !  While  under 
the  barber's  hands  this  morning,  a  boy  posted  up  in  the 
shop  the  programme  of  a  course  of  PHRENOLOGICAL 
LECTURES  !  Verily  the  science  should  be  applied  to 
the  driving  of  locomotives  on  rail-roads,  for  it  out- 
travels  steam.  I  have  seen  the  lecturer — the  same 
scoundrel  who  frightened  me  at  Mount  Auburn — he  is 
«ven  now  coming  up  the  yard  with  two  attendants  bear 
ing  a  bucket  and  a  parcel — there  is  no  back  door  and 
no  escape  ! 

****** 

I  regret  to  say  that  the  following  extract  from  the 
World's-end-ville  Herald  of  Freedom,  received  per  last 
mail,  can  refer  to  nobody  but  J.  Shun  Manipulation, 
Esquire. 

"  The  body  of  an  Eastern  man,  who  has  been  but  a 
few  days  in  this  village,  was  found,  yesterday  morning, 
suspended  by  a  brass  machine,  something  resembling  a 
pair  of  callipers,  hooked  into  a  timber  in  an  unfinished 
room  in  the  Columbian  Hotel.  Death  must  have  been 
very  painful,  and  caused  by  strangulation  undoubtedly. 
About  the  hair  of  the  deceased  were  bits  of  lime. 
Verdict,  suicide. 

"  Since  the  above  was  put  in  type,  we  learn  that  the 
brass  machine  belongs  to  Dr  Bump,  the  Phrenologist, 
and  is  used  for  looking  into  heads.  We  learn,  farther, 
that  the  lime  on  the  hair  is  plaster  of  Paris,  and  was 
stolen  by  the  deceased  from  the  doctor,  while  that  gen 
tleman  was  taking  a  cast  of  his  head.  We  seize  with 
pleasure  the  present  opportunity  to  recommend  to  the 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIES.  75 

citizens  of  World's-end-ville  to  attend  the  lectures  of 
Dr  Bump,  who  will  trace  a  similarity  between  the  head 
of  this  stranger  and  that  of  Murel  the  great  land-pirate 
— elucidated  by  anecdotes  of  the  peculiarities  of  each." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHIES 

SHOULD  generally  be  deemed  rather  apologies  than 
strictly  impartial  narratives.  Few  persons  are  indiffer 
ent  to  posthumous  fame, — even  the  most  humble  cherish 
a  hope  to  be  remembered  beyond  the  term  of  their  lives. 
Among  the  indifferent,  those  who  take  care  to  be  their 
own  historians  are  certainly  not  to  be  classed.  They 
will,  therefore,  place  their  own  conduct  in  the  best  pos 
sible  light,  and  while  the  good  sense  of  those  who  de 
serve  to  be  remembered  will  prevent  their  wilfully  mis 
representing  facts,  still  it  is  "  human  natur,"  as  Old 
Stapleton  says,  to  give  one's  own  acts  a  favorable  color. 
A  man  will  do  this  without  being  himself  aware  of  it — 
and  with  the  most  honest  intentions  in  the  world.  The 
autobiographer  sees  in  his  journal  a  second  self,  which, 
he  confidently  hopes,  is  to  be  the  companion  of  succeed 
ing  generations  ;  and  whatever  other  attributes  of  the 
original  this  representative  may  lack,  it  is  never  defi 
cient  in — self. 


76  CORRECTED  PROOFS. 


THE  VAUDOIS  HARVEST  HYMN. 

THE  following  is  a  liberal  translation-;— almost  a  paraphrase.  In 
the  original  French,  the  words  are  adapted  to  an  air  so  much  re 
sembling  the  English  National  Anthem  "  God  save  the  King," 
that  some  of  the  curious  in  such  matters  have  supposed  it  the 
model  upon  which  the  English  Anthem  was  formed. 

Father  of  Mercies!  God  of  Peace! 
Being  whose  bounties  never  cease! 
While  to  the  Heavens,  in  grateful  tones, 
Ascend  our  mingled  orisons, 
Listen  to  these,  the  notes  of  praise,. 
Which  we,  a  happy  people,  raise! 

Our  hamlets,  sheltered  by  Thy  care, 
Abodes  of  peace  and  plenty  are; 
Our  tillage  by  Thy  blessing  yields 
An  hundred  fold — the  ripened  fields 
Of  flowing  grain — the  burthened  vine — 
Are  tokens  of  Thy  Love  Divine. 

The  cradled  head  of  infancy 
Oweth  its  tranquil  rest  to  Thee — 
Youth's  doubting  step,  and  firmer  tread 
In  years  mature,  by  Thee  are  led — 
Secure  may  trembling  age,  Oh  Lord! 
Lean  on  its  staff,  Thy  Holy  Word. 

Teach  us  these  blessings  to  improve, 
Teach  us  to  serve  thee,  teach  to  love — 
Exalt  our  hearts,  that  we  may  see 
The  Giver  of  all  Good,  in  Thee; 
And  be  Thy  Word  our  daily  food, 
Thy  service,  God,  our  greatest  good. 


SIR     HUGH      EVANS.  77 

Whether  in  youth,  like  early  fruit, 
Or  in  the  sere  and  solemn  suit 
Of  our  autumnal  age,  like  wheat 
Ripened  and  for  the  reaper  fit, 
Thou  cut  us  off,  Oh  God,  may  we 
Gathered  into  Thy  garner  be! 


SIR    HUGH     EVANS, 

WHO  figures  in  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  as  a  Welsh 
parson,  was  curate  of  the  priory  of  Brecon,  Wales, 
in  the  time  of  dueen  Elizabeth.  Shakspeare  was  a 
visiter  in  the  family  of  the  patron  of  the  parson,  and 
there  is  no  question  that  the  whimsicalities  of  old 
Sir  Hugh  are  drawn  from  the  original  Welsh  curate. 
Campbell,  in  his  life  of  Mrs  Siddons,  quotes  this  origin 
of  the  character  from  a  "  Cambrian  friend,"  and  farther 
supposes  the  fairy  machinery  of  the  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  to  be  drawn  from  this  part  of  Wales.  The 
traditionary  history  of  Puck  and  his  companions  is  still 
preserved  there.  Favorites,  as  Shakspeare's  plays  are 
now,  what  must  they  have  been  when  the  knowing  ones 
could  read  the  traces  of  the  originals,  in  the  stage 
copies !  Allusions,  the  points  of  which  are  now  lost, 
could  then  be  understood  and  enjoyed,  and  the  poet, 
who  was  "  veiie  good  company,  and  of  a  verie  ready, 
and  pleasant,  and  smooth  wit,"  no  doubt  improved  the 
peculiarities  of  all  who  were  drawn  about  him,  by  his 
conversational  talents. 
7* 


78 


CORRECTED      PROOFS. 


EASY    JOE    BRUCE. 

"  THE  devil !  "  exclaimed  Mr  Joseph  Bruce,  or  per 
haps  we  should  rather  say  Joe  Bruce,  for,  as  he  was  a 
noble,  easy  fellow,  nobody  thought  of  allowing  him 
more  than  half  of  his  name,  or  of  any  thing  else  which 
belonged  to  him, — "  The  devil !  I  see  by  the  paper  that 
Hawk  &  Harpy  have  assigned.  I  meant  to  have  se 
cured  my  debt  yesterday  !  "  He  left  his  coffee  half 
drank,  stumbled  over  the  threshold,  and  went  almost 
at  a  run  to  the  compting-room  of  Hawk  &.  Harpy. 
One  half  that  speed  on  the  day  before  would  have  saved 
his  debt, — as  it  was,  he  was  just  in  season  to  put  on  his 
name  at  the  bottom  of  a  dozen  and  a  half  preferred 
ones,  to  receive  ten  per  cent.  He  went  back  to  his 
unfinished  breakfast  with  what  appetite  he  might. 

"Why  did  you  neglect  this  so  long,  Mr  Bruce  ?" 
said  his  helpmeet  and  comforter. 

"  I  meant  to  have  attended  to  it  yesterday,  my  dear." 

"  You  meant !  That  is  always  your  way,  Mr  Bruce. 
You  carelessly  neglect  your  business  to  the  last  mo 
ment,  and  then  put  yourself  in  a  haste  and  a  heat  for 
nothing,  my  dear." 

"  Really,  Mrs  Bruce—" 

But  Mrs  Bruce  did  not  allow  him  a  chance  to  defend 
himself.  On  she  went,  in  the  most  approved  conjugal 
manner,  to  berate  him  for  his  carelessness  and  inatten 
tion. 

"  Really,  Mrs  Bruce—" 

And  it  was  really  Mrs  Bruce,  for  few  of  the  feminine, 


fcASY     JOE     BRUCE.  79 

and  none  of  the  masculine  gender,  eould  have  kept 
pace  with  her.  Certainly  Easy  Joe  could  not.  The 
clatter  of  a  cotton*mill  would  not  have  been-  a  circum 
stance  to  the  din  she  raised — tray,  we  doubt  whether 
a  philippic  against  one  of  those  said  mills,  from  the  lungs 
of  Benton  Tonans,  could  have  been  heard  above  her 
voice.  Easy  Joe  pulled  a  cigar-case  out  of  his  pocket 
— clapped  hre  feet  on  the  fender — and  it  almost  seemed 
that  the  smoke  rendered  his  ears  impervious  to  the 
bleatings  of  that  gentle  lamb,  his  spouse,  so  placid  was 
his  countenance,  as  the  vapor  escaped  in  graceful  vol 
umes  from  his  mouth.  People  overshoot  the  mark 
sometimes — Mrs  Bruce  did.  Had  she  spared  her  ora 
tion,  the  morning's  loss  would  have  induced  her  hus 
band  to  have  been  punctual  to  his  business,  for  one  day 
at  least.  As  it  was,  he  took  the  same  sort  of  pride  in 
neglecting  it  under  her  lecture,  that  the  Grande  Nation 
will  probably  take,  in  refusing  to  pay  the  claims  of  our 
citizens. 

"  Breeze  away,  Mrs  Bruce." 

"  Breeze  away,  sir !  Breeze  away!  I  wish  I  could 
impart  one  tittle  of  my  energy  to  you,  Mr  Bruce — I — 
I—" 

Bruce  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  crash !  came  an  elegant 
mantel  clock  down  upon  the  hearth. 

"  There,  Mr  Bruce  !  That  clock  has  stood  there 
three  months  without  fastening — a  single  screw  would 
have  saved  it — but — " 

"  Well,  I  meant  to— " 

"  You  meant!  Mr  Bruce — You  meant  won't  pay  the 
damage,  nor  Hawk  &-  Harpy's  note !  You  meant, 
indeed ! " 

Bruce  seized  his  hat  and  cloak.    In  a  few  minutes  he 


60  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

was  on  'Change.  Nobody  could  read  in  his  face  any 
traces  of  the  late  matrimonial  breeze,  and  nobody 
would  have  suspected  from  his  countenance  that  Hawk 
&,  Harpy  failed  in  his  debt.  Easy  Joe  Bruce. 

"  Well,  Mr  Bruce,  they've  routed  him." 

"Who?" 

"  Our  friend  Check.  Pingree  was  chosen  president 

of  the Bank,  this  morning.  One  vote  would  have 

stopped  him." 

"  How  deucedly  unlucky.  /  meant  to  have  been 
present  to  vote  for  Check  myself." 

"  Never  mind,  Bruce,"  said  another.  "  You  are  a 
lucky  man.  The  news  of  the  g*eat  fire  in  Speeder- 
ville  has  just  reached  town  by  express,  and  I  congratu 
late  you  that  you  was  fully  insured." 

"  The  devil !  My  policy  expired  last  week,  and  I 
meant  to  have  got  it  renewed  this  morning." 

Joe  posted  home  in  no  very  happy  humor.  When  an 
easy  man  is  fairly  up,  he  is  the  most  uneasy  and  un 
reasonable  man  in  creation. 

"  Mrs  Bruce,  by  staying  at  home  to  hear  you  scold, 
I  have  lost  thousands.  I  meant  to  have  got  insured 
this  morning — I  did  not — Speederville  is  burned  down, 
land  I  am  a  beggar."  ( 

"  Why  did  you  not  do  it  yesterday,  Mr  Bruce? " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Hawk  &,  Harpy." 

"  Thinking  !  Why  did  you  not  secure  yourself?  " 

"  I  meant  to,  but — " 

"  But — me  no  buts." 

"  You  are  in  excellent  spirits,  Mrs  Bruce." 

"  Never  in  better." 

"  Vastly  fine,  madam.     We  are  beggars." 


EASY      JOE      BRUCE.  81 

Mrs  Bruce  sat  down,  clapped  her  feet  on  the  fender, 
after  her  husband's  manner  in  the  morning. 

"  We  are  beggars,  madam,"  Bruce  repeated. 

"  Very  good — I  will  take  my  guitar,  and  you  shall 
shoulder  the  three  children.  We'll  play  under  Mr 
Hawk's  window  first,  then  under  Mr  Harpy's,  and  then 
beg  our  way  to  Speederville,  to  play  to  the-  ashes  of 
what  was  once  your  factory, — which  you  meant  to  have 
insured.  I  should  like  begging  of  all  things." 

"  You  abominable  woman,  I  shall  go  mad." 

"  Don't,  I  beseech  you,  Mr  Bruce.  They  put  mad 
beggars  in  Bedlam." 

Bruce  sprung  for  the  door.  His  wife  intercepted 
him.  "  Here,  Joseph,  is  a  paper  I  meant  to  have 
shewed  you  this  morning." 

"  A  policy  !  And  dated  yesterday  !  " 

"  Yes.  You  meant  to  get  it  renewed  to-day — 7 
meant  it  should  be  done  yesterday — so  I  told  your 
clerk,  from  you,  to  do  it.  Am  I  not  an  abominable 
woman  ?  " 

"  When  I  said  so,  I  was  in  a  pet.     /  meant — " 

"  No  more  of  that,  Joseph.  Now  tell  me  who  is  first 
on  Hawk  &  Harpy's  assignment." 

"  Your  brother." 

"  His  claim  covers  you  both." 

"  You  are  an  angel !  " 

Easy  Joe  became  an  altered  man,  and  his  wife  was 
released  from  her  watch  over  his  out-door  business. 
She  died  some  years  before  him — but  we  are  half  in 
clined  to  suspect,  that  after  her  death  Joe  partially  re 
lapsed  into  his  old  habits — so  true  it  is,  that  habit  is  a 
second  nature.  Both  were  buried  in  the  grave-yard  at 
Speederville,  and  our  suspicions  are  founded  on  some- 


5«  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

thing  like  the  following  conversation,  which  took  place 
between  the  grave-digger  and  his  assistant  : — 

"  Where  are  we  to  dig  Mr  Bruce's  grave  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  exactly.  His  will  says,  next  his 
wife." 

"  Where  was  she  laid  ?  " 

"  That  I  don't  know.  Easy  Joe  always  said  he 
meant  to  place  an  obelisk  over  her,  but  it  was  never 
done." 


THE    OMNIBUS. 

A  DEAL  may  be  learned  in  the  world,  by  keeping  the 
eyes  open  ;  they  are  the  main  avenues  to  the  brain, 
and  should  be  unlimitedly  indulged — permitted  to  look 
at  all  descriptions  of  persons,  and  into  all  sorts  of 
places.  In  Allan  Cunningham's  Lives  of  Sculptors 
and  Painters,  an  artist — no  matter  what  artist,  it  is 
sufficient  that  he  was  debased  with  the  too  common 
alloy  of  genius — an  artist  is  described  as  fond  of  low 
society.  He  was  one  evening  surprised  carousing, 
"  hail  fellow  well  met,"  with  a  group  of  drunken  fish 
ermen.  In  extenuation,  he  held  up  an  exquisite  pencil 
sketch  of  the  scene,  and  pleaded  the  pursuit  of  his 
avocation  as  an  excuse  for  his  debauchery.  Somebody, 
with  a  literary  appetite  resembling  the  natural  appetite 
of  a  man  who  would  eat  a:  kersey  over-coat,  for  the 
nourishment  contained  in  the  wax  on  the  tailor's  thread, 
there  is  no  book,  however  vile  or  trashy,  from 


THE      OMNIB  US  .  83 

which  some  good  may  not  be  gleaned.  The  like  re 
mark  may  be  applied  to  the  observation  of  men  and 
things.  Artists,  novelists,  editors,  and  magazine  wri 
ters,  must,  like  Leigh  Hunt's  pigs,  "  run  up  all  manner 
of  streets,"  in  pursuit  of  subject  matter  for  pencil  and 
pen.  But  by  no  means  think  that  it  follows,  that  to 
sketch  the  Coliseum,  it  is  necessary  to  do  all  that  Ro 
mans  do ;  or  that  to  understand  the  whale  and  smaller 
miscellanies  of  the  deep,  it  is  necessary  to  carouse  with 
fishermen.  I  wash  my  hands  of  that  conclusion,  Allan 
Cunningham's  artist  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
Still,  to  be  noticed  or  read,  artists  and  scribblers  must 
be  of,  and  among  men.  If  they  live  altogether  for  the 
past,  they  will  live  as  if  they  were  not,  among  the  mat 
ter-of-fact  people  of  this  "  working-day  world."  Nine 
readers  in  ten  prefer  an  account  of  what  has  passed 
under  their  noses,  to  an  elaborate  history  of  the  court 
intrigues  of  the  Celestial  Empire,  and  would  rather 
read  the  history  of  yesterday,  than  a  statement  of  the 
grounds  of  quarrel  among  the  operatives  of  Babel,  who 
"turned  out"  for  a  new  grammar.  Hence  the  rage 
for  newspapers.  Now  for  the  omnibus. 

"  Omnibuster  "  is  the  London  name,  the  legitimate 
title  of  the  vehicle  in  the  classic  dialect  of  Alsatia. 
The  same  "coves"  call  the  attendant  boy  a  "  Cad." 
Why  thus  called,  linguists  must  determine  ;  but  certain 
I  am,  that  to  commence  the  word  with  a  b  or  an  s  would 
be  better  orthography,  and  make  a  fitter  title ;  for, 
among  the  numerous  freshmen  and  graduates  of  the 
stable,  a  "  worse  "  or  a  "  sadder  "  set  of  saucy  little  in 
carnate  outrages  never  dodged  horses'  heels.  An 
omnibus  is  a  miniature  world, — a  Noah's  ark,  in  which 
representatives  of  every  class  of  society  are  wont  to 


84  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

congregate — in  a  word,  a  place  where  it  is  pleasant, 
profitable,  and  necessary  to  keep  the  eyes  open.  When 
an  observing  man  takes  a  seat  in  it,  there 

Is  speculation  in  the  eyes, 
Which  he  doth  glare  withal. 

His  fellow  passengers  are  his  property,  and  play,  in  his 
imagination,  the  parts  he  assigns  to  them.  Maelzel 
manages  figures  of  wood  and  metal,  with  leathern  ar 
ticulation  to  their  limbs,  and  leathern  lungs;  your 
omnibus  Prometheus  has  a  new  set  of  puppets  at  every 
ride — bona  fide  breathing  ones. 

I  often  ride  in  an  omnibus — as  much  for  ninepence 
worth  of  acting  without  previous  rehearsal,  as  for  econo 
my  in  time. 

All  the  coach  is  a  stage, 
And  all  the  passengers  are  merely  players. 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances — 

And,  to  preserve  the  likeness,  little  Cad  jingles  his  bell 
— very  like  the  signal  to  the  scene-shifters.  I  found 
myself,  upon  an  evening  sometime  since,  among  no 
common-place  set  of  materiel  for  the  fancy.  At  my 
left  was  a  comfortable  old  gentleman,  comfortably  set 
tled  in  the  world — at  least  I  set  him  down  as  such. 
Opposite  him  was  an  uncomfortable  little  young  lady, 
uncomfortably  unsettled — unmarried,  possibly,  and 
waiting  for  a  husband.  She  might  have  been  the  old 
gentleman's  daughter — perhaps  his  ward  only  ;  but,  at 
any  rate,  he  had  the  nominal  charge  of  her.  -Easy 
odd  gentlemen  seldom  have  more  than  the  name  of 
guardians  over  uneasy  young  ladies  ;  if  they  arc  fathers, 
they  have  not  even  that.  Opposite  me,  in  the  other 
corner,  was  a  young  lady  with  t\vo  bundles,  one  of 
which  was  an  infant.  We  four  had  the  end  of  the 


THE      OMNI  BUS  .  85 

omnibus  next  the  horses.  Of  the  rest  of  the  passen 
gers  I  saw  nothing,  except  when  a  jolt  of  the  carriage 
threw  their  noses  forward,  out  of  the  shadow.  They 
might  have  been  quite  as  remarkable  personages  as  we 
were,  but,  like  thousands  in  the  great  world,  went  with 
out  notice,  not  because  they  were  inherently  unworthy 
of  it,  but  because  they  were  not  in  the  light ! 

The  Cad  touched  the  bell.  "  Lady  what  stops  at 
— -  ?  "  Miss — beg  your  pardon — Mrs  made  demon 
strations  of  an  intention  to  disembark.  "  Shall  I  take 
your  bundle  ?  "  She  did  not  so  much  as  answer  me. 
My  comfortable  friend  offered  service  with  as  bad  suc 
cess,  while  his  uncomfortable  little  ward  thrust  both 
feet  across  the  coach.  This  obliging  manoeuvre  con 
vinced  me  that,  though  the  two  ladies  had  evinced  an 
evident  desire  to  become  "  better  strangers,"  they  were, 
nevertheless,  acquainted.  No  lady  of  true  good  breed 
ing  insults  one  with  whom  she  is  unacquainted ;  such 
liberties  can  only  be  taken  with  those  who  are  or  have 
been  intimates.  They  were  once  rivals — I  was  positive 
of  it.  "  Thank  ye  for  nothing,"  the  lady  with  the 
bundles  did  not  say ;  but  her  looks  spake  it,  as  she  run 
the  gauntlet  to  the  door,  with  a  parcel  under  each  arm 
— the  breathing  bundle  on  the  side  where  sat  her  un 
comfortable  little  quondam  friend. 

"  Go  ahead  !  "  shouted  Cad.  The  coach  went  ahead, 
and  so  did  the  lady — a  head  and  whole  length  into  the 
mud  !  There  was  a  "  bubbling  cry  " — not  like  that  of 

Some  strong  swimmer  in  his  agony, 

but  like  a  weak  infant  in  a  state  of — smothering  to 
death. 

8 


86  CORRECTED      PROOFS, 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  out  the  comfortable  old  gentleman, 
as  he  heard  the  splash. 

"  Stop  !  "  echoed  your  humble  servant. 

"  Pugh  !  "  said  the  uncomfortable  little  lady,  as  she 
turned  up  her  nose  expressively  ;  "let  her  husband  pick 
her  up." 

She  might  have  spared  her  breath.  Omnibusses  and 
seventy-fours  are  not  stopped  for  trifles ;  and  the  lady- 
was  left  to  pick  up  herself  and  bundles  as  she  might. 

"  No  wonder  she  fell,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  No,"  said  the  young  woman. 

And  "  No,"  said  I.  "  These  infernal  omnibus  drivers 
and  boys — " 

"  The  omnibus  is  well  enough,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  woman. 

I  was  puzzled. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  that  young 
lady—" 

"  Not  so  very  young,  uncle." 

"No — no  more  she  is;  but  she's  younger  than  she 
looks.  Let's  see — she  was  born  in  the  Fall  of  18 — , 
the  Spring  of  the  same  year — " 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Such  a  dreadful  jolt !  I  declare,  an  omnibus  is  a 
nuisance." 

"  Exactly,"  said  I ;  "  still  it  is  well  enough." 

The  comfortable  old  man  laughed,  and  the  uncom 
fortable  young  woman  looked  daggers  at  me.  The  old 
gentleman  continued — 

"  She  always  icould  carry  her  own  bundles.  I've 
known  her  since  she  was  that  high.  She'd  have  her 
own  way,  'spite  of  father  and  mother,  and  she  would 


THEOMNIBUS.  87 

marry  whom  she  pleased.  So  she  was  always  getting 
into  trouble — " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  And  she  always  manages  to  get  out  again." 

"  Umph  !  "  and  a  toss  of  the  head  and  curl  of  the 
lip.  There  was  effect ! — light  and  shade — for  the  upper 
lip  cast  a  shadow  in  the  lamplight,  like  a  pair  of  black 
moustaches. 

"  She  married  a  likely  young  fellow  enough — poor — 
but  she  did  not  care  for  that,  you  know.  Others  would 
have  been  glad  to  have  supplanted  her."  Here  he 
looked  quizzingly  at  the  uncomfortable  little  lady,  and 
I  looked  where  he  did ;  but  she  was  trying  to  make 
something  out  of  the  palpable  pitch  darkness,  through 
the  coach  door. 

"  She  would  carry  her  own  bundles,  and  now  she 
must,  whether  she  will  or  no.  Family  of  children — 
husband  poor,  and  proud — young  ladies  that — " 

Ting-ting-ting — "The  gentleman  what  stops  at ." 

I  left  the  coach,  and  lost  the  moral.  But  I  have  become 
acquainted  with  the  heroine  of  the  omnibus  and  her 
history  since  ;  and,  whatever  temporary  difficulties 
"  carrying  her  own  bundle  "  may  have  led  her  into,  I 
am  convinced  that  she  has,  in  the  end,  lost  nothing  by 
her  independence  and  decision. 


88  CORRECTED     PROOFS 


THE    INDEPENDENT    BEGGAR 

PAINTED     BY     S.     WALDO. 

A  plague  upon  such  impudence  ; 

Why,  how  the  fellow  stares! 
As  if  we  were  his  tenants,  all 

A  twelvemonth  in  arrears. 
/  owe  you  nothing — prithee  why 

That  saucy  look  at  me  ? 
Nor  is  my  friend  Bob  in  your  debt — 

You  can't  a  tailor  he! 

Blockhead  !  with  aspect  unabashed, 

You  eye  the  ladies  too! 
Dost  think  they'll  brook  such  impudence 

From  such  a  thing  as  you  ? 
They  like  assurance,  it  is  said, 

(And  nothing  can  be  truer,) 
But  hang  it,  yours  is  quite  too  bad — 

"Assurance  doubly  sure  !  " 

Why  there  is — dash — and — dash — and — dash — 

(See  Fanny  Kemble's  book,) 
Would  pledge  you  all  their  ready  cash, 

If  you'd  but  teach  that  look! 
That  is — they'll  show  you  where  the  hat, 

The  coat,  the  vest,  the  breek, 
The  boot,  the  spur,  the  saddle-horse, 

May  all  be  had — on  tick. 

Don't  want  'em,  hey  ?     Egad,  you're  right, — 

Diogenes  himself 
Had  lost  his  independence,  if 

He'd  found  the  tailor's  shelf. 


DOUBLE     SENSE,  89 

Your  goods  and  chattels  none  may  steal, 

Nor  officer  attach  ; — 
The  grievous  rents  in  your  attire 

Will  longer  last  than  patch. 

Adieu,  adieu,  my  hearty  one  ; 

Adieu  my  bully  rough  ; — 
I  will  not  bid  a  "  fare-you-well," 

For  you  fare  well  enough! 
That  bone  denuded  of  its  meat, 

That  porridge  dish  quite  dry — 
Are  tokens  plain,  that  you  have  dined 

Better,  by  far,  than  I. 


DOUBLE    SENSE. 

"  MINE  eyes  smell  onions,  I  shall  weep  anon,"  was 
put  by  the  Bard  of  Avon  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  his 
characters.  Should  luckless  poet  or  poetaster  of  our 
day  give  utterance  to  such  a  line,  the  whole  pack  of 
critics,  little  dogs  and  all,  would  be  after  him  in  a 
hurry  ;  that  is  to  say,  if  he  were  worth  barking  at. 
Byron  ''sometimes  thought  that  eyes  have  ears;" — 
that  is  better.  Among  all  the  properties  attributed  to 
the  "  eyelets  of  the  soul,"  hearing  is  not  the  least  poet 
ical.  But  smelling,  faugh !  the  idea  is  "  odorous." 

8* 


90  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 


AN   EXQUISITE   EPISTLE 

TO  MR  DURANT,  THE  AERONAUT 

Dear  sir,  I  was  extatical>- 

Ly  pleased  and  amazed, 
When  on  your  car  ferial, 

Agape  I  stood  and  gazed. 
Do  tell  us  your  sensations,  when 

Above  our  heads  you  flew  ; — 
Was  not  your  toilet  disarranged 

By  every  breath  that  blew  ? 

Oh,  it  must  be  excessively 

August  to  sail  alone  ; — 
Do  you  use  Eau  de  Florida, 

Or  Farina's  Cologne  ? 
To  leave  the  world  so  far  below, 

Above  the  clouds  to  soar! 
Does  claret  color  look  as  well 

Above  the  clouds,  as  lower? 

The  prospect,  too,  from  such  a  height, 

Without  doubt  glorious  is  ; — 
Have  you  a  pocket  op'ra  glass, 

Or  do  you  wear  a  quiz  ? 
Ma  conscience  !  what  a  splendid  view 

You  had  of  all  the  ton  ! 
Saquezs's  annual  reports 

Can't  furnish  such  an  one. 

How  well  above  the  city  I 

Should  like  to  sail  alone  ! 
I  then  might  safely,  loudly  swear 

That  I  was  du  haul  ton  .' 


AN     EXQUISITE      EPISTLE.  91 

Where  in  the  city  do  yon  bay  _ 

Your  fits,  and  drapery? 
Do  you  wear  one  of  Kimball's  stocks, 

Or  neckcloth  negligee  1 

How  happy,  sir,  yon  must  have  felt, 

While  on  the  wing  so  high  ! 
To  know  you  was  the  staring  point 

Of  every  body's  eye  ! 
A  thousand  ladies  that  I  know, 

Your  dangers  loud  deplored  ; — 
I  don't  believe  that  one  would  cry 

If  I  fell  overboard  ! 

'Pon  honor,  any  sacrifice 

I  could  in  conscience  make, 
I  would,  if  only  like  yourself, 

I  thought  that  I  could  take. 
Your  style  of  dress  I  want  to  know, 

To  hear  from  you  I  pant  ; 
I  wish  at  least,  if  nothing  more, 

To  dress  a  la  Durant! 


CORRECTED       PROOFS. 


TAR    BRUSH    SKETCHES 


BY      BENJAMIN      FIFERAIL. 


AT    SEA. 

"  No,  I  swear—" 

"  Then  I'll  not  believe  you—" 

"  You  won't  believe  my  word,  and  if  you  will  not 
my  oath — " 

"  Benjamin,  the  name  of  our  Maker  should  not  be 
lightly  appealed  to.  Such  irreverent  allusions  are  not 
only  profane,  but  indecorous  and  unbecoming." 

As  she  talked,  I  was  aghast  at  the  alteration  working 
in  Ellen's  face.  The  dimples  on  her  cheeks  became 
wrinkles — her  beautifully  rounded  chin  grew  sharp,  and 
luxuriated  in  a  beard  of  a  week's  growth — her  black 
ringlets  disappeared,  and  in  their  stead,  silver  bristles 
frowned  the  ten  commandments  at  me.  Her  two  lips 
could  no  longer  be  punned  into  tulips,  for  their  fragrance 
betokened  much  nearer  affinity  to  the  Virginia  weed, 
and  her  voice  rumbled  like  the  wind  in  a  passion.  The 
whole  figure  favofed  that  of  a  reverend  admonitor  of 
my  youth.  Before  I  had  time  to  be  astonished  at  this 
metamorphosis,  there  was  another — my  mother  threw 
her  hands  about  my  neck,  and  such  a  hug  as  she  gave 
me !  I  felt  it  a  week — the  balls  of  her  thumbs  made  a 
bullet-mould,  each  side  of  my  thorax. 

"  Murdther  an  ouns !  will  ye  turn  out  at  all,  Ben  ?  " 


TAR     BRUSH       SKETCHES.  93 

"  Oh,  curse  your  brogue  !  you've  frightened  away 
my  mother." 

"Yer  modther !  is  it  awake  you  are,  whin  yer  siven 
sinses  are  playin  Isaac  an  Josh  wid  you  this  way  ? 
Turn  out  Ben !  an  see  if  yer  modther  will  go  out  to  the 
wedther  earrin  wid  you.  All  hands !  " 

Ileigho !  so  it  was,  sure  enough — as  I  undertook  to 
creep  out  of  my  berth,  the  old  brig  Neptune  gave  a 
jerk,  with  as  much  hearty  good  will,  as  if  the  water- 
god  who  stood  her  sponsor,  had  thrust  the  whole  three 
prongs  of  his  toasting-fork  into  her,  by  way  of  a  hint  to 
be  lively.  I  picked  myself  up  from  the  deck,  thoroughly 
convinced  of  two  or  three  facts — the  most  important 
of  which  was,  that  the  forecastle  of  the  Neptune  was  as 
little  like  a  lady's  bower,  or  my  mother's  sitting-room,  as 
possible.  When  I  got  up  the  hatch,  I  found  Boreas  at 
it  in  earnest,  playing  one  of  his  most  chromatic  volunta 
ries  on  the  wind-harp.  Don't,  after  this,  say  I'm  no 
poet,  reader. 

A  busy  two  hoars'  work  we  had  of  it,  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time  we  were  snug  enough — laying  to,  under  a 
balance-reefed  trisail.  We  stowed  ourselves  away  under 
the  weather  quarter-rail,  and  Dennis  beguiled  the  re 
maining  two  hours  of  the  watch,  with  the  following  yarn. 


"  You  never  was  up  the  Sthraits,  Ben  Fiferail  1 " 

"  Never,  Dennis." 

"  Won't  I  spin  ye  a  twister  thin,  about  the  King  o' 
the  Turks  1 " 

"  King  of  the  Turks!  I  thought  it  was  the  Sultan." 

"  The  Sultin  ?  Well,  it's  all  one  in  Greek,  Ben  Fife- 
rail.  Where's  the  differ,  I'd  like  to  know,  if  a  felly  has 
the  dosh,  an  the  sojers,  an  his  say  in  every  thing,  wed- 


94  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

ther  you  call  him  King,  or  Presiding  or  Sultin,  or  Skip 
per  ?  Well,  the  King  o'  the  Turks,  he  had  four  lawful 
wedded  wives,  an  a  raft  more,  that  he  couldn't  spake 
so  well  iv.  A  mighty  fine  hullabaloo  they'd  kick  up 
about  his  ears,  to  be  sure  ;  it  was  murdther  an  ouns, 
wake  ,in  an  wake  out,  an  divil  an  hour's  pace  Sundays. 
If  he'd  a  noggin  o'  the  raal  brought  in  till  him,  sorrer  a 
drap  he'd  git,  bekase  why  I  It's  perlite  he  was,  an  whin 
he'd  be  givin  the  women  the  dthrink  first,  an  the  can 
kem  back  till  him,  it  'ud  be  dthry  as  a  judge's  eye  whin 
a  murdtherin  tief  blubbers  for  mercy." 

"  You  know  something  about  that?  " 

"  Hould  yer  tongue.  It  wasn't  a  child  he  had  in  his 
cabin  at  all,  this  King  o'  the  Turks,  barrin  one.  He 
was  well-lookin  enough,  the  b'y,  but  whin  his  fadther 
tould  him  he  must  git  him  a  wife,  sis  he,  '  Dad,  I'll  not 
do  that  thing.  It's  wives  enough  that  there  is  intil  the 
house,  widout  my  fetchin  anodther  to  quarrel  over  the 
drap  liquor.'  Wid  that,  the  ould  man  was  up  direc'ly, 
an  the  b'y  he  was  up  too,  an  a  braze  there  was  blowed 
up  betwane  'em,  you  may  swear.  Sis  the  ould  one,  sis 
he, — he  call't  the  b'y  his  Christian  name,  but  it's  out 
iv  my  head  now — " 

"  His  Christian  name  ?  " 

"  Ay,  so  it's  Jack  I'll  call  him,  for  shortness,  '  Jack,' 
sis  he,  '  ye  block'id,  if  ye  don't  make  twain  from  one 
flesh,  it's  a  dirrty,  dape  dungeon  I'll  put  ye  intil,  an 
{here  ye'll  stay,  till  ye've  rason  in  ye.'  Wid  that,  he 
sung  out  bloody  murdther,  for  his  horse,  fut  an  dhrag- 
hoons,  an  they  walked  Jack  down  intil  the  cellar,  an 
seein  it  was  the  mont  of  July,  maybe,  whin  the  ould 
praties  was  gone,  an  the  new  ones  not  gadthered,  it's  a 
roomy  place  was  the  praty-bin.  They  walloped  Jack 


TAR      BRUSH       SKETCHES.  95 

intil  it,  bodily,  an  the  King  locked  the  door,  an  put  the 
kay  intil  his  pocket,  an  wint  up  the  ladder  agen.  It 
was  darrk  an  dirrty  enough  that  the  place  was,  an  Jack 
all  alone,  but  bein  in  a  tundtherin  passion,  he  hullaba- 
loo'd  himself  to  slape,  while  the  ould  King  kicked  all 
his  wives  out  iv  his  room  up  stairs,  an  had  a  nice  pace- 
able  dhrunk  to  himself,  all  alone.  By  an  by,  Jack  snores 
— 'Is  that  tundther? '  sis  the  ould  King,  an  he  paped 
down  through  the  cracks  iv  the  flure,  upon  Jack, — '  no, 
he's  aslape,  the  unduthiful  b'y,  while  his  fadther's  heart 
is  breakin,  an  I'll  be  doin  the  same.'  So,  what  wid  the 
liquor,  an  the  way  he  was  in,  the  ould  King  shut  his 
dead-lights  down — an  the  wives  were  all  so  mighty  quiet 
for  fear  they'd  be  shut  up  too,  that  they  wint  to  slape 
for  want  iv  betther  empl'yment.  Thin,  sis  the  sojers, 
horse,  fut,  an  dhraghoons,  '  won't  we  slape,  as  well  as 
our  betthers -1 '  So  they  stretched  themselves  out,  an 
the  slapy  god  Vulkin  clapped  a  blinker  on  the  deck-lights 
of  every  modther's  son  an  da'ter  iv  'em." 

"  What  sleepy  god  was  it?  " 

"  Oh,  shut  yer  mout,  Ben,  don't  I  undherstan  loga 
rithms  ?  Well,  while  it  was  aslape  they  all  were,  a  giant 
as  lived  next  door,  an  owed  the  King  a  grudge,  tought, 
by  rason  there  was  no  noise,  they  were  mighty  quiet  in 
the  cabin — " 

"  A  reasonable  conclusion." 

"  To  be  sure  it  was.  '  Well,'  sis  he,  c  that  dirrty  spal 
peen  iv  a  King  chated  me  last  fall,  like  a  heathen  Turk 
as  he  is,  an  if  I'd  find  'em  all  aslape  now ' — You  must 
know,  Ben,  that  the  King  an  the  giant  took  a  praty  field 
at  the  halves,  an  whin  they  came  to  divide  the  beautiful 
fruit,  it  was  the  biggest  half  that  the  King  took, — '  If 
I'd  find  him  aslape  now  !  Here,  Norah  girl — '  " 


96  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

"Who  was  Nor  ah?" 

"  His  da'ter,  to  be  sure." 

"  The  Turkish  giant's  daughter  ? " 

"  Oh,  the  giant  was  no  Turk  at  all — paple  iv  that  big 
bastely  stature  belong  to  no  nation  under  the  sun." 

"  True,  Dennis." 

"  An  is'n't  the  troot  I  spake  every  day  in  the  wake  ? 
<  Nor  ah!'  sis  he—" 

"  How  came  her  name  to  be  Norah  ?     That's  Irish." 

"  How  came  it  ?  Now  is'n't  that  a  question  for  a 
scholard  like  you,  Ben  Fiferail?  How  came  it?  Why, 
that's  what  she  was  christened,  to  be  sure.  '  Norah,' 
sis  he,  '  come  wid  me,  an  if  we  find  that  dirrty  snipe  ir 
a  King  aslape,  won't  we  stale  some  iv  his  murphies  ? — 
for  all  we  have  in  the  house  for  the  bit  dinner,  the  mor 
row,  ye  might  put  intil  yer  eye,  an  see  none  the  worse 
for,  an  I'd  like  a  thrifle,  a  bushel  or  so,  roasted  for  my 
lunch,  the  night.'  An  Norah,  she  was  plazed,  roguish 
little  witch  that  she  was — " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"  What  'ud  ye  be  clafferin  at,  Ben  ?  " 

"  At  the  giant's  little  daughter." 

"  Ah,  but  ye'd  laugh  louder,  could  ye  see  her,  Ben — 
she  was  fit  to  be  laughed  at,  a  quean.  She  clapped  on 
her  cloak  an  hood,  an  thripped  afther  her  fadther,  an 
they  paped  intil  the  windy,  an  there  they  was,  all  aslape, 
sound  enough — the  King,  an  his  wives,  an  his  bloody 
sojers,  horse,  fut  an  dhraghoons." 

"  But  I  thought  he  drove  his  wives  out  of  the  room." 

"  Could'n't  they  come  back  agen,  ye  booby,  whin  the 

King  was  sound  aslape?     The  giant  slips  in,  an  like  a 

blackguard  as  he  was,  threads  on  the  curls  iv  one  iv  the 

women.     '  Let  go  me  hair  ! '  sis  she,  for  it  was  a  cap- 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  9  / 

pullin-fight  wid  one  iv  the  odther  fifty-nine  wives,  she 
was  dramin  iv — an  the  giant  stood  still  a  bit.  Thin 
he  goes  along  agen,  aisy,  an  Norah  takes  down  a  bit 
rushlight  as  was  stuck  in  the  wall  wid  a  wooden  skewer, 
an  follys  him  down  cellar.  'Now  hould  yer  apurn, 
Norah,'  sis  he,  '  an  I'll  pull  out  the  boult,  for  it's  fast 
the  'door  is.'  Wid  that,  he  pulls  it  out,  as  aisy  as  you'd 
sprout  a  murphy,  an  opens  the  door.  It  was  faint  the 
light  was,  an  the  giant  fumbled  about  upon  the  ground 
— '  musha,  good  luck ! '  sis  he, '  here's  a  praty  big  enough 
for  a  moutful!'  an  he  tuck  up  Jack's  head — 'but  it's  a 
tundtherin  long  heavy  sprout,  the  lazy  baste  iv  a  King 
has  let  grow  till  it — hould  the  light,  Norah  dear,  while  I 
twist  it  off.'  Wid  that,  his  murdtherin  fingers  was  roun 
Jack's  neck,  an  it's  unaisy  the  poor  lad's  weason  'ud  a 
felt,  but  sis  Norah,  sis  she,  '  bloody  murdther,  fadther  ! ' 
an  sis  Jack  in  his  troat,  '  Ug-a-ug-a-rok-ok  ! '  If  it  'ud 
been  a  hot  praty,  he  couldn't  drop  it  quicker,  an  Norah, 
the  tinder  sowl,  took  Jack's  head  in  her  lap,  and  waked 
him  to  slape, — but  not  before  she'd  let  him  take  a  pape 
at  her  own  swate  face,  the  slut.  Grumpy  enough  the 
giant  wint  home,  an  Norah  follay'd,  but  its  full  o'  Jack's 
beautiful  praty  head,  that  her  head  was,  an  the  narry 
chance  he  'ad  stood  for  it.  Divil  a  bit  did  the  racket 
rouse  the  ould  King  at  all,  or  his  sixty  wives  or  his  sojers. 

In  the  mornin,  sis  the  ould  King,  '  Kathleen  !' — that 
was  Jack's  mother.  An  she  kem  till  him  in  a  divil  iv 
a  fit  o'  shakin — for  the  King  iv  the  Turks  has  an  ugly 
way  iv  his  own,  o'  tyin  up  his  wives  in  a  bag,  an  trowin 
them  intil  the  Lifley — " 

"  Why  that's  a  river  in  Ireland  !" 

"  Oh,  it's  not  the  Lifley  I  mane — it's  the — " 

"  Never  mind  Dennis." 
9 


98  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

"  Niver  mind  'tis  thin — but  he  trows  them  intil  some 
unhealthy  strame  or  odther.  Well,  Kathleen  she  kein 
till  him  in  a  stew,  an  sis  he,  '  Go  down  an  tell  that  rib- 
bilyious  son  o'  yer  own,  that  he  must  make  up  his  mind 
forenint  breakfast,  for  divil  a  moutful  he  gits  till  he  does.' 
Wid  that,  down  goes  Kathleen,  and  sis  to  Jack,  spakin 
betwane  the  cracks  till  him — '  Will  ye  be  married  Jack?' 
'  To  be  sure  I  will,  modther  dear,'  sis  he,  '  an  if  fadther 
had  a  let  me  sane  the  beauthiful  crature  afore  he  shut 
me  up,  it  isn't  Jack  Delany  'ud — '  " 

"  Delany  ?  was  that  the  King's  name  1 " 

"  It'll  do,  for  lack  iv  a  betther — an  why  not?  Isn't 
it  a  purtier  name  nor  Guelph,  any  day  in  the  wake  ? 
'  What  do  ye  mane?'  sis  Jack's  modther,  sis  she.  '  I 
mane,'  sis  Jack,  '  that  I  was  throubled  wid  a  cramp  in 
my  neck,  last  night  that  iver  was,  an  my  fadther,  Saint 
Patrick's  blessin  on  him,  for  that  good  dade,  sint  Mis- 
thriss  Jack  Delany  that  is  to  be,  intil  this  place  to  com 
fort  me,  an  take  out  the  kinks  an  cable-tier  pinches.' 
'  Och  hone  !  och  hone  !  it's  crazed  ye  are,  me  darrlin 
b'y  ! '  sis  his  modther.  '  The  divil  a  bit,'  sis  Jack,  'for 
I'll  take  my  bodily  oath  on  the  four  Evangels — '  " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  Did  the  Turkish  prince  swear  on 
the  Evangelists?" 

"  To  be  sure  he  did,  an  it's  only  yer  own  want  of 
grace,  that  makes  you  laugh  at  houly  things,  Ben  Fife- 
rail.  Jack  stuck  to  it  tight  that  there  was  a  woman  in 
his  room  the  night,  an  that  he'd  marry  her  wid  his 
whole  heart.  By  an  by,  sis  his  modther,  to  humor  his 
madness  like,  as  she  tought,  '  well  Jack,  to  be  sure 
there  was  a  woman  in  the  cellar,  but  it  was  one  iv  yer 
fadther's  own  wives,  Jack,  darlint.'  'The  divil  a  bit,1 
sis  Jack,  '  for  niver  a  wife  o'  my  fadther's  was  half  the 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCffES.  99 

leddy,  or  the  beauty,  as  visited  Jack  Delany  last  night.' 
'  Do  you  say  that  to  me  ?  '  sis  his  modther,  '  yer  fadther's 
wife,  an  yer  modther?'  'To  be  sure  I  do,'  sis  Jack, 
'  troot  is  troot.'  '  Stay  here  an  rot  thin,'  sis  she.  '  An 
go  to  the  divil,  modther,  if  yc  plaze,'  sis  he,  for  he  was 
in  a  murdtherin  passion.  An  up  the  ladder  she  wint." 

"  An  excellent  son,  Dennis." 

"  Thrue  for  you,  all  Ir — all  Mahometan,  Pagan,  I 
mane — but  hould  yer  tongue  Ben.  '  Och  hone !  yer 
majesty,'  sis  Kathleen  to  the  King,  '  it's  crazed  that 
Jack  is,  intirely.  He  sis,  the  poor  b'y,  that  there  was  a 
woman  intil  the  dungeon  wid  him.1  '  Oh,'  sis  the  King, 
he's  dramin  only,  an  not  crazy.'  '  But  he  trated  me 
like  a  brute  baste,'  sis  she.  '  That's  natural,'  sis  his 
majesty.  '  An  he  tould  me  to  go  to  the  divil  if  I  plazed.' 
Wid  that  the  King  jumped  up — '  he  is  crazed  for  a  troot,' 
sis  he,  '  it's  out  iv  his  head  he  is,  for  no  man  in  his  mind 
'ud  give  a  woman  that  liberthy.'  Thin  the  docther  was 
sint  for  direc'ly,  an  Jack  was  brought  out  iv  the  dirrty 
hole  into  day-light  agen,  an  he  tould  the  same  story  over. 
Whin  the  King,  his  royal  fadther,  clapt  his  two  good 
lookin  eyes  upon  the  big  black  spots  on  his  son's  neck, 
he  looked  mighty  hard  at  a  wife  of  his,  that  was  hopin 
one  day  to  see  a  son  of  her  own  on  the  trone  of  Turkey." 

"  I  thought  the  King  had  but  one  child." 

"  Oh  shut  yer  mout  Ben.  He  looked  hard  at  her, 
thinkin,  maybe,  that  she'd  be  jealous  of  Kathleen,  an 
would  put  Jack  out  iv  the  way,  to  make  place  for  her 
own  offspring — " 

"  But  I  thought  none  of  his  wives  but  Kathleen  had 
any  children." 

"  Oh  be  aisy,  Ben  !  What  'ud  I  do  wid  yez  now  if 
there  was  women  hearin  you  bodther  ?  He  looked 


100  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

hard  at  her,  an  the  offishcr  that  had  the  bag  in  his 
hand,  began  to  untie  the  sthrings — " 

''What  bag?" 

"  Why  didn't  I  tell  ye,  Ben,  that  the  King  of  Turkey- 
has  a  way  wid  him  of  trowin  his  wives  intil  the  wather, 
tied  up  in  a  bag  1  The  King  looked  hard  at  her,  arid 
thin  he  bethought  himself  how  good  she  was  about  the 
pigs  an  the  rist  iv  the  poulthry,  an  made  up  his  mind 
not  to  dhrown  her  till  afther  Christmas." 

"  A  careful  King,  Dennis." 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  be  ?  Now  we'll  lave  the  King, 
an  step  over  intil  the  giant's  house.  Miss  Norah  was 
in  a  takin  to  be  sure,  all  in  the  suds  as  she  was,  whin  she 
saw  the  King  comin  across  a  bog  there  was  back  iv  the 
house,  an  steppin  intil  the  back  door.  '  The  top  iv  the 
morning  till  ye,  Miss  Norah,'  sis  his  majesty.  Wid  that 
she  dhropped  a  curchey  ;  '  Ye'll  tak  a  dhrop  iv  the  dew 
the  morn  ?'  '  To  be  sure  I  will,'  sis  he  ;  an  while  the 
King  was  dhrinkin  the  dhrap,  she  twitches  off  her 
washin  apurn,  an  puts  back  her  hair,  the  proud  hizzy. 
'  Ye're  purty  to  look  at,'  sis  he.  '  Tank  yer  majesty 
kindly,'  sis  Norah.  Wid  that  he  wint  from  one  thing 
to  anodther,  till  he  put  his  arrurns  roun  her  neck — " 

"  Did  he  have  to  get  on  a  stool  ?" 

"  Oh  hould  yer  tongue,  Ben.  He  put  his  arrunis 
roun  her  neck,  an  at  the  blessed  momint  who  should 
come  in  but  the  giant  her  fadther,  with  a  big  arrmful 
of  turrf  for  the  pot  bilin.  '  Tear  an  ouns,'  sis  he,  an 
he  trowed  the  whole  on  the  heads  iv  em.  '  Murdther,' 
sis  Norah,  '  ye've  spilt  the  wash  intirely.'  " 

"  What  did  the  King  say  ?'' 

"  Divil  a  word,  for  a  minit,  by  rason  he  was  floored 
an  astonished  with  the  load  of  turrf  laid  on  him.  Di- 


TAE     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  101 

rec'ly  the  King  come  to  his  sinses  he  sprung  to  his 
fate,  an  sung  out  bloody  murdther  for  his  sogers,  horse, 
fut  an  dhragoons,  an  they  made  a  pris'ner  iv  the  big 
blackguard  iv  a  giant." 

"  Why  didn't  he  knock  'em  down  by  the  dozen?" 

"  Troth,  Ben,  I  niver  asked  him.  Thin  the  King, 
wid  his  head  all  blood,  where  it  shtruck  the  corner  iv 
the  wash-tub,  marched  off  the  giant  to  his  cabin  for 
thrial,  and  Norah  wint  wid  em,  takin  on.  Whin  they 
got  to  the  house,  there  was  Jack  wid  a  pipe  in  his  mout, 
sittin  in  the  doorway.  '  Praised  be  Allah  !'  sis  he — " 

"  Is  that  Irish,  Dennis?" 

"  Was  Jack  Irish,  Ben  ?  Wasn't  he  a  Pagan  Ma 
hometan  heretic?  '  Praise  be  to  Allah  !'  sis  he,  '  Ye 
dirrty  blackguard,'  sis  his  fadther,  '  is  it  glad  ye  are 
that  my  head's  broke?'  '  Oh,  St  Pathrick's  currse  on 
yer  head,'  sis  Jack — " 

"  Is  that  a  Turkish  curse  ?" 

"  I'll  shtop  direc'ly,  Ben,  if  you  keep  bodtherin.  '  Bad 
luck  to  yer  head,'  sis  Jack,  '  it's  the  self  same  leddy 
that,'  pointing  to  Norah,  'that  cured  me  of  the  broken 
neck  the  night.'  Thin  the  giant  shivered  in  his  brogues, 
for  fear  the  praty  stalin  'ud  come  out,  an  down  he  drap- 
ped  on  his  marry-bones,  an  tould  the  whole  story.  An 
Norah  thrembled,  by  rason  she  was  modest,  and  Jack 
for  joy  he'd  found  her,  an  Kathleen  for  the  drap  usque 
baugh  she'd  put  in  her  praties  and  milk  to  comfort  her 
the  morn,  and  the  King  bekase  he  was  in  a  divil  iv  a 
passion — an  a  divil  of  a  shakin  there  was,  to  be  sure, 
all  round.  Just  at  that  minit  along  comes  the  King's 
confeshor,  an  by  rason  they  were  all  quakin,  a  beautiful 
set  of  pinitents  he  tought  he  had,  so  he  shpread  his 
9* 


102  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

hands  in  a  fadtherly  way,  aud  gev  'em  all  absolution  all 
togedther,  widout  askin  any  questions,  to  save  time." 

"A  Catholic  priest?" 

"  Who  else  'ud  gev  absolution,  I'd  like  to  know  ? 
Thin  whin  they  all  found  they  were  in  a  nice  way,  an 
falin  plazed  too,  that  they'd  chated  his  riverance  out  iv 
what  they  wouldn't  had  so  aisy  if  he'd  taken  the  throu- 
ble  to  confess  'em,  they  made  it  all  square  over  a  pot 
iv  liquor,  an  Norah  an  Jack  were  jined  in  the  houly 
bands  iv  matrimony.  An  that's  the  whole  story,  Ben 
Fiferail." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  what  business  a  Catholic 
priest  had  in  Turkey." 

"  It's  a  wicked  heretic  you  are,  God  forgive  you,  for 
callin  their  houly  duthy  in  question  at  all.  You  never 
were  up  the  Sthraits  ?" 

"  I  told  you  no,  once  " 

"  Thin  what  do  you  know  about  it  ?" 

"  Why,  I've  read—" 

"  Oh,  to  the  divil  I  pitch  yer  books — they're  a  pack 
of  lies  altogedther.  I've  been  in  Turkey  meself." 


IN    CALLAO    HARBOR. 

"  All  hands  ahoy  !  " 

"  Aiu-aiugh  !  "  yawned  Old  Jack.  "  Wonder  what 
day  of  the  week  it  is." 

"  You'll  find  out  quick  enough,"  said  Bill  British. 
"  The  second  mate's  riggin  the  'ead  pump — and  means 
to  begin  divine  sarvice  with  the  comandament,  '  Re 
member  the  sabbath-day  and  keep  it  'oly ;  six  days 
shalt  you  labor  and  do  all  thy  work,  and  on  the  seventh 
'oly-stone  your  decks,  and  hunder-run  your  cables.'  " 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  103 

"  What's  that  you're  growling  about,  Bill  British  ?  " 
shouted  the  second  mate  through  the  hatch. 

"  Nothink,  sir." 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  fairly  at  it — water,  "  holy 
stones"  and  "big  bibles"  (as  the  sailors  have  chris 
tened  large  blocks  of  stone  used  for  scouring  decks, 
particularly  on  the  Sabbath,)  were  the  order  of  the 
morning.  The  second  mate,  a  long;  slab-sided  Yan 
kee,  who  had  the  birth  of  second  officer,  on  his  second 
trip,  by  virtue  of  being  ship's  cousin,  seemed  desirous 
to  emulate  Hercules  on  a  small  scale,  and  turn  all  the 
water  of  Callao  harbor  through  our  scuppers.  He  had 
thrown  fifteen  buckets  of  water  at  a  single  rope-yarn 
which  had  effected  a  lodgement  under  the  long-boat. 
Tired  of  handing  water  for  his  amusement,  I  dropped 
upon  my  knees,  and,  thrusting  my  head  and  shoulders 
under  the  boat,  reached  after  the  obstinate  yarn.  Just 
as  I  touched  it  with  the  end  of  my  finger,  zip !  came 
bucket  number  sixteen.  Such  a  blow  under  the  coun 
ter  of  the  old  brig  would  have  thrown  her  bows  under. 
I  chose  to  consider  myself  Iwrs  du  combat,  and  crawled 
toward  the  forecastle. 

"  Who  sprinkled  you  that  a-way  ?  "  inquired  Bill 
British. 

"  The  second  mate." 

"  What  a  go,  ha!  ha!  well,  was  it  a  haccident,  or 
done  for  fun  ?  " 

"  He  did'n't  say,  but  I  suppose  it  was  for  the  reason 
a  posteriori."  My  Yankee  shipmates  did  not  laugh  till 
1  perpetrated  the  joke — no  bad  one,  by  the  way,  for  a 
half-drowned  boy — but  Bill's  mouth,  which  had  opened 
with  a  half-uttered  laugh,  when  he  first  saw  my  wo~ 
begone  appearance,  closed  hermetically  when  I  an- 


104  CORRECTED      PROOFS, 

swered  his  question  :  he  "  couldn't  see  nothink  to  laugh 
at  in  it."  I  dropped  down  the  forecastle  hatch ;  hear 
ing  no  inquiry  for  me,  and  concluding  that  Aquarius 
had  come  to  the  same  conclusion  as  myself,  viz,  that  I 
had  done  and  suffered  my  share,  proceeded  to  rig  my 
self  in  my  "  go-ashores." 

Stepped  on  deck  just  as  the  steward  was  getting  the 
boat  alongside,  to  go  to  market  for  the  captain's  break 
fast — slipped  into  it,  and  took  the  bow  oar.  Cuff,  who 
but  for  me  would  have  been  compelled  to  navigate  with 
one  oar,  was  too  wise  to  stop  to  ask  questions,  and  we 
were  out  of  hail  of  the  brig  in  a  minute.  Looked  at 
the  blade  of  my  oar,  as  if  I  was  afraid  it  would  break 
without  watching — thought  I  saw,  under  my  hat  rim, 
somebody  beckoning  on  board  the  brig — but  the  yard 
and  a  half  ribbon  bothered  me,  and  I  dared  not  lose 
sight  of  my  oar  to  look  up. 

"  Dere — dere — de  secon  mate's  swingin  his  arms 
like  de  telegraf  board,  or  a  Dutch  windmill." 

"  Never  mind,  steward — he  wants  to  bother  you  with 
some  errand ;  we  can't  stop  now.  Let  him  send  the 
boat  ashore  himself,  if  he  wants  anything." 

Touched  the  quay,  and  I  was  ashore  in  no  time. 
"  Here,  stop,  take  care  de  boat,  while  I  go  for  market." 

"  Let  the  boat  take  care  of  itself." 

"Take  a  horse,  Jack?"  said  a  Yankee  negro  who 
is  established  at  Callao,  for  the  praiseworthy  purpose 
of  fleecing  Jack  out  of  his  loose  change,  giving  him, 
in  exchange,  the  privilege  of  abusing  a  wind-broken 
horse. 

"  Can't  stop." 

And  I  did  not  stop  till  I  was  out  of  Callao,  and  under 
the  town  walls — as  I  was  afraid  that  walking  bundle  of 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  105 

midnight,  the  steward,  might  make  a  troublesome  out 
cry  if  he   overtook   me.     Sat  down   and  pulled  off  my 
stockings — long  stockings,  (sailors  have  an  aversion  for 
socks,)  rolled  them   up   and  put   them  into  my  pocket. 
Saw  steward  looking  intently  up  the  road  ;  kept  close — 
communing  with  myself,  as  I  lay  beneath  the  mud  wall, 
how  many  notes  a  blind  fiddler  need  to  lose  while  jump 
ing  over  it.     Just  as  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
such  a  leap  need  not  interrupt  his  tune  at  all,  my  black 
friend  gave  up  looking,  and  turned  back  into  the  town. 
And  now,  my  trowsers  rolled  half  way  up  my  legs  to  keep 
out  of  the  dust,  my  tarpaulin  hat  set  jauntily  on  three 
hairs,   and  my   stockings  in  my  jacket  pocket,   behold 
me,  with  my  land-tacks  aboard,  standing  for  the  renown 
ed  city  of  Lima.     There  was  no  chance  for  mistake, 
any  way — a  straight  road  and  only  one  lay  before  me. 
As  I  walked  I   busied   myself  in   anticipations  of  the 
splendors  of  the  Golden  City,  and  jumbled  all  the  feats 
of  Pizarro  and  Fernando  Cortez  ;  thought  of  ingots  of 
gold,  of  Holla  and  Cora,  &c.  &c.     I  was  overtaking  a 
sort  of  a  nondescript  vehicle,  and,  as  I  neared  it,  began 
to  hear  indistinctly  what  seemed  the  howling  of  man  or 
beast  in  horrid  pain.     All  my  Yankee  blood  rose  withiii 
me,    and   Quixotte    like,    I    crowded    sail  to  overtake 
and  relieve  the  sufferer.     As  I  overhauled  the  chasey 
the    sound    became    to    my    ears    singularly    regular, 
and   rather   too  monotoiKms  for  howls  of  pain,   unless 
the  miserable  object  were  groaning  by  gamut — with  a 
bar  rest  between  each  note.      Nevertheless  I  pulled 
foot. 

Poor  axles !  they  had  never  felt  grease,  and  all  my 
tugging  and  sweating  was  to  get  the  first  intimation  of 
the  fact,  that  custom-hou^e  regulations  forbade  the  use 


106  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

of  oil  upon  the  few  carriages  of  burden  which  have 
crept  into  use,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  mules.  If  I 
run  again,  said  I,  as  I  walked  by  the  driver,  may  I  find 
good  cause  for  it !  An  odd  looking  genius,  that  driver, 
and  worth  describing.  His  slender  nether  limbs,  cased, 
as  low  as  the  knee,  in  trunk  breeches,  looked  like  two 
plump  pears  inverted,  and  yoked  together  at  the  base, 
perambulating  on  their  stems.  About  his  middle  was 
a  sash — above,  I  can't  remember,  except  that  on  his 
head  was  a  large  straw  hat  or  sombrero.  "  Anda ! 
Anda  !  (then  an  indescribable  noise  with  the  lips,) 
Anda,  bestia  !  "  and  ever  and  anon,  as  he  bellowed  to 
his  skinny  cattle,  he  punched  their  raw  flanks  with  his 
goad.  Yes,  raw !  for  on  the  hips  of  the  poor  beasts 
were  places  as  large  as  the  crown  of  a  hat,  where  the 
hide  was  goaded  through — the  raw  flesh  festering  and 
broiling  in  the  sun.  I  felt  my  fingers  close,  and  my 
arm  bend — and — that  was  all,  except  that  my  teeth 
grated.  The  opportune  thought  occurred  to  me  that 
the  cattle  would  fare  no  better,  and  that  I  should  fare 
worse,  for  interfering. 

I  had  reached  the  half  way  house.  "  Key  whorah 
is  1 "  inquired  I. 

The  fellow  looked  at  my  sailor  rig,  and  handed  down 
a  decanter,  of  course. 

"No!  no!" 

He  changed  it. 

"  Blast  your  liquor  !  " 

"  Clue  dice  vmd  ?  "   (What  do  you  say  ?) 

"K-e-y  w-h-o-r-a-h  i-s?" 

"  No  lo  entienden." 

"  Don't  understand?     Confound  a  book  of  conversa- 


TAR    BRUSH    SKETCHES  107 

tions  that  won't  learn  a  fellow  to  ask  what  o'clock 
it  is." 

"Ah!  watty  clock  !  Clue  hora  es?  Le  entiendo ; 
son  las  once  y  cuarto."  As  I  had  studied  Spanish  the 
evening  before,  with  a  particular  reference  to  learning 
the  time  of  day,  I  understood  the  answer — a  quarter 
past  eleven — better  than  the  Spaniard  did  the  ques* 
tion,  pronounced  "  Key  ichorah  is  ?  " — and  satisfied 
with  learning  the  hour,  I  was  about  budging  again, 
when  my  friend  of  the  bar  stopped  me,  and  made  me 
understand  that  I  was  to  pay  for  the  liquor  a  moustachio 
ed  soldier  had  drunk,  while  I  was  murdering  King 
Ferdinand's  Spanish.  I  made  wry  faces  at  this  propo 
sition,  but  there  was  no  get  away — so  I  lugged  out  my 
solitary  half  dollar,  and  let  him  deduct  the  price  there 
from.  I  pocketed  the  change,  and  inarched  on,  but  found 
that  my  money,  small  as  it  was  in  amount,  had  secured 
me  a  friend,  who  seemed  disposed  to  stick  closer  than 
a  brother.  I  slackened  my  pace — he  was  in  no  hurry. 
I  walked  fast — and  he  cracked  on.  I  crossed  the  road 
— and  he  was  seized  with  a  like  impression,  that  the 
other  side  was  pleasantest.  Slow  or  fast,  cross  or  re- 
cross,  it  was  all  one  to  my  amigo.  My  shadow  could 
not  have  followed  my  motions  more  faithfully.  When  I 
found  that  shaking  him  off  was  altogether  out  of  trie 
question,  I  submitted  to  the  infliction  with  the  best 
grace  I  could, 

My  friend  began  trying  to  converse  in  broken  Eng 
lish — interspersed  with  an  occasional  Spanish  word — to 
which  I  attempted  to  reply  in  broken  Spanish,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  English.  But  as  the  conversation  could 
not  be  understood  without  the  gestures — and  as  it  is 
utterly  impossible  to  place  them  upon  paper  without  the 


108  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

assistance  of  Johnston,  I  shall  not  undertake  it.  .  I  be 
gan  to  grow  sadly  leg-weary — not  all  the  novelty  of  my 
situation  and  the  peculiarly  pleasant  circumstances 
under  which  I  was  travelling,  could  persuade  my  limbs 
that  they  were  bound  to  forget  their  sea-trim,  on  so  un 
reasonable  an  errand  as  their  master  was  upon.  Tak 
ing  advantage  of  the  shade  afforded  by  trees  which  are 
planted  on  each  side  of  the  road  for  a  couple  of  miles 
from  the  city,  under  which  are  placed  seats  at  regular 
intervals,  I  brought  myself  to  an  anchor.  Perceiving 
my  rascally  shadow  about  to  seat  himself  with  me,  I 
threw  myself  at  whole  length  upon  the  beach.  Just 
escaped  from  the  broiling  sun,  and  still,  stifling,  bone- 
dry  air  of  the  road,  which  to  this  point  was  straight, 
uniform,  shadeless,  and,  with  the  exception  of  one  half- 
ruined  village,  and  the  half-way  house,  monotonous, 
my  present  situation  was  a  perfect  paradise — or  would 
have  been  but  for  the  infernal  soldier,  who  still  hovered 
over  me  like  a  turkey-buzzard  over  a  prize,  the  pos 
session  of  which  has  been  disputed  with  him.  Gradu 
ally  my  vision  became  indistinct — objects  faded  before 
me — and  in  a  trice  I  was  on  board  the  brig — the  waters 
made  a  clean  breach  over  her,  and  knocked  me  under 
the  long-boat — I  seized  a  spar  to  stop  drifting  about 
deck,  and  it  changed  in  my  hands  to  a  tall  Yankee, 
with  the  features  and  form  of  the  second  mate,  who 
seized  me  by  the  throat — I  struck  at  him,  and — knocked 
down  my  dusky  amigo,  the  soldier.  "  Oh  you  pica 
roon  !"  said  I,  fairly  awake.  The  fellow  had  been  try 
ing  to  relieve  my  neck  of  the  kerchief,  in  which,  find 
ing  the  soldier  determined  to  stick  to  me,  I  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  knot  my  money. 

Senor  Soldado  gathered  himself  up,  and  as  he  came 


TAR       BRUSH       SKETCHES.  109 

toward  me,  I  could  perceive  that  he  was  no  model  for 
a  picture  of  Moses,  if,  as  we  read,  that  worthy  was  the 
meekest  of  men.  I  sprang  to  my  feet ;  fortunately 
enough  a  mounted  soldier  rode  up.  Don't  mistake  him 
for  a  horse-soldier,  gentle  reader, — he  was  mounted  on 
an  ass.  Attracted  by  our  position  he  reined  in — no, — 
he  stopped  beating  his  animal,  directly  abreast  where 
we  stood ;  and  the  beast,  who  seemed  to  have  learned 
that  one  step  was  expected  for  every  blow,  but  no  steps 
on  any  other  condition,  stopped  short.  My  soldier  im 
mediately  commenced  a  palaver  with  the  stranger — and 
finding  the  tide  setting  against  me,  I  appealed  to  him 
also — "  Romper,"  said  I,  catching  hold  of  my  throat, 
"  romper  me  handkerchiefo— Bur-r-r,"  another  gesture 
as  if  strangling — "  Bur-r-r, — caro,  murdero — muerty 
— stea^a — en — paysoce — bur-r-r-r,  dollars,"  and  here 
another  grand  flourish.  I  thought  I  had  explained  to  a 
miracle,  that  the  soldier  had  tried  to  strangle  and  rob 
me,  and  looked  up  for  a  sheepish,  guilty  face  on  the  one 
part,  and  protection  on  the  other — but  both  blockheads 
laughed  as  if  they  had  the  cachinations  of  a  life-time 
to  exhibit  within  the  half  hour, — and  the  mounted  one 
was  for  making  off,  when  I  made  him  understand  that 
I  should  like  to  ride.  I  had  better  success  in  this,  than 
in  complaining  of  the  robbery,  and  was  soon  placed  on 
the  little  beast  behind  his  master. 

Thus  mounted,  I  gained  nothing  in  time,  for  the  two 
heroic  defenders  of  their  country's  liberty  commenced 
a  conversation — to  accommodate  which,  the  pace  of  the 
donkey  was  regulated  to  a  slow  walk.  I  could  not  suf 
ficiently  admire  the  materials  of  which  the  army  of  the 
Patriots  of  which  we  had  heard  so  much,  was  com 
posed — as  I  had  ample  opportunity  to  observe — the 
10 


110  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

number  of  idle  soldiers  increasing  as  we  drew  nearer 
the  city.  Coal  black,  and  all  the  intermediates  to 
white,  or  as  near  white  as  the  climate  will  permit,  In 
dians,  and  all  the  varieties  occasioned  by  intermarriages 
between  Spaniard  and  Indian,  and  Indian  and  Negro* 
Their  dress  was  abominably  coarse — blue,  and  faded 
blue  cloth,  with  slashes  of  red  flannel  variously  put  on. 
Our  arrival  at  the  gate  of  the  city  caused  no  small 
merriment  among  the  loungers  about  the  guard-house. 
In  the  heat  of  their  merry  discussion  upon  their  com 
rades'  protege,  myself,  I  slid  down  unperceived,  from 
behind  my  obliging  conductor,  and,  without  stopping 
even  to  thank  him,  turned  the  first  corner. 

The  first  person  I  met  after  doubling  the  corner, 
was  my  ship-mate,  old  Jack  Kellum — and  most  glo 
riously  corned  he  was  too — so  much  so,  that  I  don't 
believe  he  would  have  seen  me,  if  in  my  hurry  I  had 
not  plumped  my  head  into  his  bread-basket.  The  en 
counter  which  brought  me  up  standing,  would  have 
carried  him  down  falling,  had  it  not  so  happened  that 
I  pushed  him  bodily  against  the  dead-wall  of  a  court, 
shaking  the  plastered  bamboo  so  roughly,  that  it  is  a 
wonder  the  crazy  concern  did  not  go  by  the  board. 
The  whole  family,  who  were  dozing  a  sort  of  a  half 
siesta  in  the  court,  sprang  to  the  door  ;  the  father,  with 
a  hopeful  son  at  each  wing,  in  the  van,  vociferating  all 
sorts  of  Spanish  oaths,  supported  by  the  mother  and 
daughters,  an  uncertain  number,  in  the  rear.  These 
latter  peeped  most  maliciously  from  under  their  long 
black  eyelashes,  over  the  shoulders  of  the  male  crea 
tures,  and  I  expected  nothing  short  of  being  cut  up 
and  stuffed  into  paper  cigars,  like  pig's  meat  into  sau 
sages  ;  when  a  new  danger  appeared  from  another 


TAR     BRUSH       SKETCHES.  Ill 

quarter.  A  body  of  soldiers,  beaded  by  my  old  friends 
of  the  road,  made  their  appearance,  and  I,  Ben  Fife- 
rail,  seemed  to  occupy  the  situation  of  the  ass  between 
two  stacks  of  hay,  reversed;  for,  inasmuch  as  that  sa 
pient  beast  did  not  know  which  stack  to  begin  upon, 
and  came  near  being  starved,  in  consequence,  I  did  not 
exactly  know  which  of  my  heaps  of  friends  would  eat 
me  with  the  best  appetite,  and  in  that  delicate  situation 
came  as  near  dying  of  fright  as  rny  four-footed  proto 
type  did  of  starvation.  All  at  once,  my  pursuers  came 
to  a  dead  stand — doffed  their  hats,  and  commenced 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross  industriously — my  amigos 
of  the  gate-way  ceased  chattering  their  imprecations, 
and  assumed  devotional  attitudes.  I  looked  in  the  di 
rection  to  which  their  eyes  were  turned,  and  saw  a  pro 
cession,  which,  upon  its  first  heaving  in  sight,  at  a  long 
distance,  had  caused  the  sudden  suspension  of  hostili 
ties.  It  was  headed  by  priests,  bearing  the  graven,  or 
rather  waxen  image,  of  some  adorable  saint  or  saint-ess, 
flanked  on  each  side  by  a  bare-headed  canaille,  and 
followed  by  devotees.  "  Here  was  a  group  for  a  painter," 
is  a  common  expression  with  scribblers,  but  I  can  tell 
thrice  as  good  a  story.  I  have  three  groups  to  exhibit, 
gentle  reader.  There — to  the  left,  see  a  dozen  sol 
diers,  as  still  and  mute  as  if  Medusa's  ugly  mug  had 
been  popped  into  their  faces  ;  their  heads,  uncovered, 
give  one  species  of  the  entomologist's  particular  favorites 
a  rare  opportunity  to  sun  themselves.  Here,  a  few  steps 
to  the  right,  are  the  amiable  family  whose  slumbers 
Jack's  shock  disturbed — their  scarcely  stifled  rage 
shining  through  the  thin  veil  of  outward  devotion,  like 
a  lamp  through  gauze,  or  a  ground-glass  shade.  They 
have  made  up  their  minds  to  give  us  a  threshing,  or 


112  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

send  us  to  the  calaboza,  as  soon  as  the  procession  has 
passed — but  religion  before  every  thing — even  before  a 
knock-down.  Group  three  consists  of  two  figures — old 
Jack  Kellum,  pressed  up  as  firmly  against  the  wall  as 
Old  Hickory's  effigy  is  against  the  cut-water  of  the 
Constitution,  and  making  a  figure  of  nearly  the  same 
altitude.  Old  Jack  will  keep  his  hat  on,  saint  or  no 
saint.  I  took  it  off  just  now,  but  he  jammed  it  on  again, 
with  a  blow  from  his  top  maul  fist ;  so  that  it  sets  as 
snug  to  his  eyebrows  as  if  those  same  were  made  to  fit 
it,  as  the  cheeks  of  the  top-mast  head  support  the  cross- 
trees.  Braced  against,  and  in  front  of  him,  to  hold 
him  up,  behold  me,  Ben  Fiferail,  my  hat  off,  legs  ex 
tended,  and  body  leaning  forward  against  him,  in  about 
the  same  angle  with  the  ground  that  a  derrick  makes 
with  the  deck.  Having  thus  traced  my  figures,  I  shall 
do  what  no  painter  can,  put  them  in  motion.  The  plot 
thickens.  The  procession  approaches,  and  the  soldiers 
have  edged  close  to  us.  The  sign  of  the  cross  is  made 
by  the  pious  family,  with  increased  rapidity  of  fingers — 
and  the  manipular  zeal  seems  to  have  been  caught  also 
by  our  soldier  friends,  who  have  now  worked  up  close 
to  us.  Obliged  to  relax  my  hold  upon  Jack — I  am 
crowded  from  him  by  the  multitude, — but  one  of  the 
soldiers  has  seized  me  by  the  collar  with  the  left  hand, 
while  he  crosses  himself  with  his  right.  Casting  an 
eye  back  to  the  spot  where  I  left  my  comrade,  I  see  his 
tall  form,  hat  and  all,  notwithstanding  the  uncovered 
crowd,  swaying  to  and  fro  like  a  lofty  poppy  in  a  bed  of 
more  diminutive  companions.  A  shout  of  maledictions 
rises  among  the  angry  multitude  against  the  heretic, 
who  obstinately  persists  in  keeping  his  head  covered,  in 
presence  of  his  or  her  saintship, — I  never  learnt  the 


TAR     BRUSH      SKETCHES.  113 

sex  of  this  particular  divinity.  There  !  somebody  aims 
a  blow  at  his  head — the  tap  which  was  intended  to  take 
his  hat  off,  has  taken  his  body  off—  its  legs.  Tottering, 
staggering  to  his  fall,  down  he  goes  !  there  is  a  rush  to 
the  spot — the  melee  thickens — my  soldier  loosens  his 
grasp — and  I  am — missing.  Jack  soon  rose,  and,  as  I 
left  the  field,  I  caught  one  glimpse  at  his  arms — not  his 
coat-of-arms  exactly,  but  his  arm-orial  bearings  not 
withstanding — two  arms  rampant,  one  big  stone  couch- 
ant,  and,  according  to  appearances,  soon  to  be  hurl- 
ant, — to  the  great  and  manifest  bodily  danger  of  the 
divinity,  and  the  attendant  black  gowns  and  bare 
heads.  I  did  not  wait  the  issue,  but  improved  the  hub 
bub  to  make  myself  scarce. 

Old  Jack  came  off  the  next  morning,  minus  money, 
hat,  shoes,  kerchiefs,  and  shirt !  The  latter  he  gave 
the  boatman  for  bringing  him  off.  We  never  could  un 
derstand  exactly  how  he  got  clear  of  the  enraged  Cath 
olics — nor  could  he,  I  believe — though  he  swore  he 
drove  the  whole  gang,  and  was  left  in  possession  of  the 
street,  and  that  he  marched  fore  and  aft  in  it  with  a 
Yankee  flag  spread,  till  dusk — alone  ;  "  and,"  he  added, 
giving  a  significant  glance  at  me,  "  I  didn't  want  no 
chicken-hearted  run-a-ways  to  come  within  hail  of  me." 


"  '  From  Saccarap  to  Portland  pier 
I  drag-ged  lumber  many  a  year  ; 
And  when  I  couldn't  no  longer  draw, 
That  was  the  reason  they  killed  me  for' — " 

"Avast  there!  Jack.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that 
this  horse  can  draw  no  longer.  Why,  he's  drawn  half 
the  teeth  from  my  head." 

<"Orse?" 
10* 


114  CORRECTED     V  ROOFS. 

"  Yes,  Bill." 

"  But  this  'ere  beef  isn't  'orse  meat  I" 

"  To  be  sure  it  is." 

Bill  dropped  the  bone  he  had  hitherto  held  on  upon 
with  devouring  affection,  and  thrust  his  knife  back  in 
the  sheath — muttering,  as  he  did  so,  a  curse  on  the 
bloody  country  that  victuals  her  ships  with  'orse-flesh. 
If  he  had  oaly  known  how  to  write,  what  a  glorious 
statistical  chapter  upon  the  food  of  American  seamen, 
the  incident  would  have  furnished  ;  the  number  of  horses 
killed  annually,  the  age  at  which  they  become  super 
annuated,  and  the  number  of  houses  in  the  trade ! 
What  a  pity  that  Bill  had  not  been  an  author  !  I  shall 
not  say  who  slipped  into  his  place,  and  played  knife  to 
the  junk  he  deserted,  lest  the  reader  should  uncharitably 
impeach  the  the  truth  of  the  genealogy  of  the  food 
which  Bill  "  greatly  gulped  at." 

"  Turn  to  there  !  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir  !  " — from  half  a  dozen.  But  what  were 
we  to  turn  to  upon  ?  Not  a  rope-yarn  was  out  of  place 
from  the  deck  to  the  truck.  The  junk  on  board  (not 
salt  junk)  was  worked  up,  every  strand,  and  we  had 
neither  to  discharge,  or  take  in  cargo.  Ah,  there  we 
have  it — Snowball  is  passing  the  muskets  and  cutlasses 
from  the  cabin,  the  two  blunderbusses,  and  an  odd 
horse-pistol. 

Perhaps  a  little  the  hardest  work  in  the  world  is  to 
do  nothing — or,  what  is  next  to  nothing,  to  be  employed 
upon  something  which  you  are  sensible  can  be  of  no 
possible  utility.  Here  we  were,  wearing  out  our  knives 
upon  rusty  muskets,  to  give  the  mate  an  opportunity  to 
enter  in  his  log,  "overhauled  and  cleaned  fire-arms." 
The  monotony  was,  however,  relieved  by  a  voluntary, 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  115 

performed  by  the  ship's  dog,  upon  the  body  of  the  black 
soldier,  who  was  stationed  on  board  as  an  officer  of  the 
customs.  Tiger  was  a  large,  noble  fellow,  possessed  of 
more  just  and  accurate  notions  of  mtum  and  tuum  than 
many  bipeds.  When,  therefore,  he  saw  the  black  sol 
dier,  after  finishing  his  dinner,  deposite  in  his  cap  some 
four  or  five  pounds  of  ship-bread,  he,  the  dog,  being 
decidedly  of  opinion  that  such  an  appropriation  of  ship's 
stores  was  never  contemplated  by  the  owners,  resolved 
upon  recovering  the  spoils.  Like  a  sensible  beast  he 
went  to  work,  not  rudely  and  noisily,  but  silently  depu 
ted  himself  a  spy  upon  the  motions  of  the  soldier,  who 
had  composed  himself  for  a  siesta,  in  a  shady  nook  on 
deck,  with  the  cap  containing  the  plunder  at  his  head. 
Tiger  went  toward  him  in  a  lazy  sort  of  a  way,  as  if 
with  no  particular  business  in  view — stopped  at  an  un 
suspicious  distance  from  the  cap — cast  half  an  eye  at 
it,  and  then  looked  up  in  my  face  inquiringly. 

"  Certainly,  Tiger.  He  has  no  more  business  with 
the  bread,  than  you  have  with  Bolivar's  moustaches." 

A  hearty  laugh  from  all  hands  roused  the  soldier,  to 
see  the  dog  trot  aft  and  deposite  one  recovered  biscuit 
at  the  cook's  feet.  Upon  his  return,  he  found  the  cap 
empty,  as  the  soldier,  who  disapproved  altogether  of  this 
species  of  military  foray,  had  taken  the  bread  from  his 
cap,  placed  it  under  his  head,  and  covered  his  head 
with  his  cloak.  Ascertaining  its  location,  Tiger  planted 
both  feet  on  the  head  of  the  soldier,  and  commenced 
digging  industriously.  The  soldier  was  glad  to  purchase 
peace  by  the  surrender  of  another  biscuit,  which  the 
dog  disposed  of  as  before,  cheered  by  the  boisterous 
mirth  of  the  whole  crew,  who  could  hardly  restrain 
themselves  within  any  bounds.  Even  the  grim  soldier 


110  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

began  to  enjoy  the  fun  of  the  thing,  though  it  was  en 
tirely  at  his  expense.  Again  Tiger  returned,  but  in  the 
mean  time,  the  provision  had  again  changed  its  stowage, 
and  was  placed  under  the  soldier's  body.  Tiger's  nose 
guided  him  exactly  to  the  spot,  and  he  commenced  op 
erations  directly  over  the  hidden  treasure,  greatly  to 
the  injury  of  the  uniform  of  the  Peruvian  Republic. 
Another  biscuit  purchased  a  temporary  ransom.  Ort 
the  part  of  the  soldier,  the  plan  of  the  campaign  was 
now  altered ;  he  replaced  the  bread  in  his  cap,  and  up 
on  Tiger's  next  approach,  gave  him  a  pointed  intima 
tion  of  his  intention  to  defend  to  the  death,  the  remain 
der  of  his  plunder.  "  Oh,  well,"  said  Tiger,  that  is,  he 
seemed  to  say  it,  "  it's  not  worth  making  so  much  fuss 
about,  so  I'll  sleep  on  it," — and  down  he  dropped,  his 
head  on  deck  between  his  fore-paws,  and  his  body  com 
fortably  disposed  for  a  canine  nap. 

"Ha!  dam  a  nigger  tief!"  cried  the  steward,  who 
now  showed  his  ebony  face  on  the  forecastle.  "  Seize 
'urn,  Tiger  !  " 

But  Tiger  evidently  had  no  inclination  to  "  seek  the 
bubble  reputation"  at  the  bayonet's  point,  and  it  was 
voted  unanimously  that  he  was  an  arrant  coward.  So 
goes  the  world.  Messieurs  the  people  have  no  mercy 
for  their  servants,  but  goad  them  on,  beyond  their 
strength — and  hunt  them  for  cowaids,  whenever  they 
show  any  signs  of  fatigue,  or  love  of  life.  Every  body 
can  remember  when  it  was  preferred  as  a  serious  charge 
against  a  naval  officer,  that  he  stooped  to  dodge  a  chain- 
shot  ! 

"  Hello  !  "  continued  the  steward,  "  where  dat  blood 
for,  on  dog's  nose  1  Guess  you  Bill  British  been  'nocu- 
late  him  for  coward." 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  117 

"  Get  out,  you  Hethiopian,  or  I'll  shoot  you  !  " 
"  Oh  don't,  now;  who  sarve  a  de  grog,  nigger  gone 
to  he  wooden  jacket  ? 

'  When  de  cap'un  go  ashore, 

An  de  mate  he  hub  de  key, 
You  want  a  nigger  steward 

When  it's  grog  time  o'  day. 

Grog  time  o'  day  !'  ' 

A  sharp,  angry  bark  from  the  dog,  and  he  had  the 
soldier  by  the  neck.  He  had  watched  him,  till  he  saw 
him  off  his  guard,  and  then  pounced  on  him,  like  a 
Tiger,  as  he  was.  Immediate  interference  was  neces 
sary,  to  save  the  soldier's  life,  for  the  dog  would  most 
assuredly  have  finished  him,  had  he  been  let  alone. 
The  steward  was  in  the  very  ecstacy  of  delight — he 
hugged  Tiger,  and  jumped  round  the  forecastle,  like  a 
baboon.  "  Hee  !  choke  a  dam  Cholo  nigger  !  Top  his 
weason,  a  brack  sojer — good  feller,  Tiger  !  "  The  gam 
bols  of  the  dog  and  his  friend  had  become  too  annoying 
— it  was  evident  that  it  had  been  grog  time  with  the 
steward.  His  eyes  protruded  from  his  head,  and  were, 
at  the  same  time,  dim  with  the  mist  with  which  alcohol 
smothers  the  vision. 

"  I  tell  ye,  you  Hethiopian,  I'll  shoot  you,  if  you 
don't  quit  your  monkey  shines!" 

"  '  When  a  buckra  man  come, 

Hoi  'urn  gun  up  higher, 
Tell  a  nigger  shoot  him, 

IXigger  he  tan  fire  !' 

'pecially  when  a  gun  hab  no  powder  in  him  !  Hee  !" 
And  Ebony  turned  a  somerset  over  the  heel  of  the  bow 
sprit. 

"  '  Possum  up  a  gurn  tree, 
Racoon  in  de  holler,' — 


118  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

Ilee  !  good  feller,  Tiger.  Nigger  gib  you  manaverlins, 
chickenny  leg,  an  piece  o'  pork  ?  Choke  a  nigger  sojer, 
hey  1 — Hab  a  pension  for  it ! 

'  I  git  up  in  de  niornin 

At  de  break  o'  day, 
Look  out  de  windy 

Canoe  gone  away — 
Den  I  tell  my  Dinah 

Who  de  debble  steal  it, 
Can't  catch  him  fish  now — 

Looky  you,  Bill  British,  you  take  aim  wid  a  gun  ?  Wha 
for  no  do  dat  on  Bunker  Hill  ?  Wha  for  let  a  Yankee 
pick  him  off  like  squerrel,  hey? 

'  Jackson  he  a  fightin  man, 

So  dey  say,  so  dey  say  ! 
Jackson  good  at  packin  ham, 

So  dey  say,  so  dey  say  !' 

Wha  for  you  no  like  'urn  cotton  bag,  Eill  British? 
Hooh! 

'  Massa,  missy  no  like-a  me 
Cause  I  no  eat  a  brack  eye  pea, 

All  day— all  day  !'  " 

Bill  cocked  a  gun. 

"  Hab  bucket  a  water  fix-a  de  primin  ? 

'  In-a  San  Domingo 

liuckra  run  away, 
Leff  'uni  in  a  hurry, 

'Cause  him  couldu'  lay — ' 

Make  ready  !     Took  aim  !" 

Bill,  laughing,  followed  the  steward's  orders. 
"  Now  Bill,  fire  an  be  dam — I  can  stand " 


The  steward  did  not  spring  from  the  deck — he  stag 
gered  three  steps  forward — and  fell.  His  head  struck 
directly  in  the  face  of  the  patriot  soldier — there  was  a 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  119 

twitch — a  convulsive  movement,  and  it  rolled  on  deck. 
The  soldier  sprang  to  his  feet — his  head  and  face  be 
smeared  with  blood.  Soldier  though  he  was,  he  had 
never  before  seen  an  actual  specimen  of  his  trade.  He 
brushed  the  blood  from  his  eyes — threw  his  bayonet  over 
the  side — then  his  musket — and  would  have  launched 
the  whole  of  the  ship's  arms,  had  he  not  been  prevented 
— so  frantic  was  he  in  his  horror. 

The  captain  was  on  shore.  The  mate,  who  was  in 
the  cabin,  hearing  the  report,  ran  on  deck.  When  he 
reached  the  forecastle,  Bill  stood  on  the  very  spot  where 
he  had  discharged  the  musket,  which  he  still  held  in  his 
hand,  the  muzzle  within  two  inches  of  the  deck,  and 
his  finger  still  on  the  trigger.  The  big  blue  veins  on 
his  hands  were  strongly  marked  through  the  livid  olive 
hue  of  his  skin — the  nearest  approach  to  paleness  which 
his  sunburnt  complexion  would  admit.  His  eyes,  though 
fixed  upon  the  spot  where  the  dead  man  lay,  evidently 
took  cognizance  of  no  object.  Motionless  as  he  stood 
— scarcely  breathing — a  few  straggling  hairs  giving  ad 
ditional  wildness  to  his  haggard  countenance,  as  his 
head  almost  reclined  on  his  breast — for  the  corpse  was 
scarce  a  musket's  length  from  him — he  could  hardly  be 
likened  to  a  living  statue. 

"  Sad  work  !  sad  work  this  !"  said  the  mate. 

The  voice  restored  the  unfortunate  homicide  to  con 
sciousness — but  not  to  recollection.  He  dropped  the 
musket — stared  wildly  about  him,  as  if  unacquainted 
with  the  events  of  the  few  preceding  moments,  and  de 
sirous  of  reading  them  in  the  faces  of  the  bystanders. 
All  was  silence.  Presently  his  eye  caught  the  pros 
trate  form  of  the  steward,  imbedded  in  its  gore  ; — a 
howl  of  agony — a  bound — a  splash — he  was  overboard. 


120  CORRECTED      PROOFS, 

Half  the  crew  were  in  the  boats  in  an  instant.  While 
they  were  fishing  for  the  poor  fellow  who  had  thus  acci 
dentally  sped  the  steward  to  his  long  home,  I  examined 
the  body.  The  ball  entered  directly  over  the  upper  lip 
— the  face  was  filled  with  grains  of  powder,  and  the 
skin  burnt,  so  near  had  the  murdered  man  stood  to  the 
muzzle  of  the  musket.  His  eyes  were  untouched,  and 
stood  out  in  glassy  deadness.  Oh,  it  was  horrible ! 
though  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  was  distorted.  The 
body  was  still  warm,  but  pulsation  must  have  ceased  on 
the  instant  that  the  ball  struck.  The  flow  of  blood  was 
immense — owing,  in  a  measure,  to  the  alcohol,  which 
had  emboldened  the  poor  devil  to  face  what,  when  sober, 
he  always  had  a  childish  dread  of — a  musket. 

The  gun  which  was  the  instrument  of  his  death  was 
different  from  the  rest,  and  was  left  on  board  by  a  sol 
dier,  on  the  previous  voyage,  when  the  brig  had  been 
used  as  a  transport — charged.  We  examined  the  fore 
mast,  and  every  object  in  the  range  of  the  shot,  to  find 
where  it  struck,  after  killing  the  steward,  but  could 
find  no  traces  of  it.  On  the  next  day,  the  surgeon  and 
mates  of  the  frigate  United  States,  then  laying  in  Cal- 
lao,  dissected  the  head.  The  ball  was  found  lodged 
in  the  vertebrae  of  the  neck,  flattened.  Much  specu 
lation,  had  among  the  crew,  why  the  ball  did  not  pass 
through  the  head,  was  settled  by  Dennis,  who  insisted 
that  "  it  was  parfickly  plain.  Why  man,  (says  he,)  the 
lead  didn't  get  head-way  on  at  all,  seein  it  was  close  to 
the  muzzle  that  the  steward  stood." 

Bill  was  soon  taken  from  the  water,  more  dead  than 
alive.  After  recovering  him  he  was  perfectly  quiet, 
although  we  had  expected  violence  from  him.  Indeed, 
prostrated  as  his  strength  was  by  his  mental  sufferings, 


TAR.      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  121 

and  his  forced  escape  from  drowning,  he  could  not  but 
be  weak.  The  soldier,  a  raw  recruit,  after  he  was 
made  to  understand  that  the  unfortunate  occurrence 
was  purely  accidental,  was  less  uneasy — but  the  speci 
men  he  had  seen  sickened  him  of  his  trade;  and  when 
we  were  collected  enough  to  notice  him,  it  was  discov 
ered  that  he  had  removed  from  his  clothing  every  thread 
of  the  red  facings  and  slashes.  He  was  relieved  the 
next  morning,  and  went  ashore  minus  musket  and  cap 
— how  he  fared  at  the  barracks  for  such  unsoldierlike 
conduct  we  never  knew,  but  it  is  to  be  presumed  that 
he  certainly  did  not  get  promoted — farther  than  the 
whipping-post. 


A  mist,  thick  as  the  boasted  English  fog,  settles  every 
night  on  Callao,  with  any  thing  but  "healing  on  its 
wings."  It  is  redolent  of  fever  and  ague — ay,  redolent 
— for  one  can  snuff  up  the  miasma.  As  the  vessels  lay 
at  anchor,  head  to  the  wind,  the  white  paint  on  the  bows 
gathers  a  nasty  yellow  tinge,  like  the  cheeks  of  a  poor 
fellow  with  the  jaundice.  It  is  a  capital  school  for 
painters,  beginners  I  mean,  who  are  just  learning  to 
shade — for  the  dirty  yellow  on  the  bows  melts  away  to 
the  clean  white  streak  on  the  quarters,  with  a  diminu 
tion  of  shade  almost  imperceptible,  and  as  regular  as  if 
an  artist  had  laid  it  on.  The  ends  of  the  jib-booms 
look  as  if  a  charge  of  powder  had  been  blown  on  each, 
smoking  it  a  short  distance,  and  leaving  the  rest  white. 
Stand  on  the  heel  of  the  bowsprit  and  look  aloft,  and 
you  are  almost  ready  to  swear  that  the  masts  and 
yards  are  bronzed — step  aft  and  look  from  the  quarter 
deck,  and  they  are  white.  The  days  are  dry  after  ten 
11 


122  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

o'clock,  arid,  till  night  comes,  with  the  palpable  fog  I 
have  attempted  to  describe. 

"Faugh!"  said  I,  as  I  poked  my  head  above  the 
hatch  ;  "  I  wish  Callao  and  its  fogs,  St  Lorenzo  and  its 
sand-banks,  at  the " 

"  Whist,  Benjamin  Fiferail !  don't  be  talking  that  way 
iv  the  ould  one.  They  say  he  is  always  convanient  to 
yer  elbow  when  you  spake  iv  him.  Suppose,  my  dear, 
he  should  clap  his  hand  on  yer  shoulder  now,  an  whis 
per,  in  the  softest  way  in  the  worrld,  '  Benjamin,  honey, 
what  'ud  ye  have  o'  me  1 ' ' 

"  Does  the  devil  talk  with  a  brogue,  Dennis?" 

"To  be  sure  he  does.  He  can  take  his  choice,  ye 
undherstan,  an  isn't  he  cunning  enough,  the  ould  sar- 
pint,  to  know  that  a  tip  iv  the  brogue  jist  puts  the  finish 
on  to  any  man's  spache?  " 

"  But  how  shall  we  find  out — I  never  heard  him  speak, 
did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  but  a  fourteent  cousin  6'  mine — a  rollockin 
blade — he  was  by  me  modther's  side,  an  she  was  an 
O'Donahoe— " 

"  Never  mind  the  relationship — did  your  cousin  hear 
the  devil  speak  1  " 

"  Exac'ly,  an  more  nor  that,  he  seed  him  too.  Pie's  a 
jontale,  nice-lookin  body,  altogedther — barrin,  maybe, 
that  he  is  not  so  well  shod,  an  is  careful  regardin  lettin 
one  see  his  feet — oh  !  it's  an  ugly  cloven  foot  he  has." 

"  Tell  as  all  about  it,  Dennis." 

"  To  be  sure  I  will ;  won't  it  give  the  watch  a  lift,  a 
bit  talk?  Well  ye  see,  I  knew  Phelim  O'Donahoe,  beiri 
iie  was  my  fourteent  cousin,  or  somewhere  about  that 
lay,  I  can't  say  exac'ly — " 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  123 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind  ;  come  to  the  devil  as  quick 
as  possible." 

"  Oh,  shut  yer  mout  now,  Ben  Fiferail — if  ye've  a 
mind  to  come  that  way,  do  it  widout  luggin  me  in  at  all. 
But  I'll  tell  ye  the  yarn,  an  thin  ye'll  find  it's  no  such 
ihrifle  to  chate  the  divil,  Benjamin.  Phelim  was  a  rol- 
lockin  blade,  if  he  was  a  cousin  iv  mine — " 

"  That's  three  times  you've  said  it,  Dennis." 

"  Oh,  get  out  now,  will  ye  be  quiet  at  all  ?  Cousin  Phe 
lim  was  a  rollockin  blade,  an  he  stood  one  day  in  Mod- 
ther  McGraws's  potheen  shop — two  odther  blades  there 
was  wid  him.  Sis  they,  '  Phelim,  it  is  you  must  pay 
the  drap  liquor.'  '  To  be  sure  it  is,'  sis  Phelim,  for  he 
was  not  the  chap  at  all  to  refuse  to  spind  money,  per- 
tic'ly  when  he  hadn't  a  farden  about  him,  which  was 
pretty  much  his  case  every  day  in  the  wake.  '  Come 
here,  Modther  McGraw,  an  gev  us  a  moutful  iv  the  cra- 
thure.'  '  Is  it  you  that  want  it,  Phelim  O'Donahoe?  Thin 
tlivil  a  drap  do  ye  get  at  all,  till  ye've  ped  the  ould  score.' 
'  Oh,  come  now,  Modther  McGraw.'  '  Get  out,  for  an 
imperdent  dog!'  '  Misthriss  McGraw  !'  'No  blarney 
now,  Phelim.'  '  Blarney,  blarney,  Misthriss  McGraw, 
it's  no  blarney  at  all  to  be  sayin  you're  purty  an  young 
lookin — it's  Misthriss  they  should  call  ye,  an  not  Mod 
ther,  let  who  will  be  spakin  to  ye.'  '  It's  an  insinervatin 
way  ye  have,  Phelim  O'Donahoe,'  sis  Modther  McGraw, 
as  she  looked  in  the  bit  look  in-glass,  stuck  wid  a  nail 
to  the  wall,  '  an  if  I  let  you  have  the  usquebaugh,  whin 
will  I  get  my  pay,  Phelim  ?  '  '  Oh  Modther,  Misthrisx 
McGraw,  I  mane,  ye'll  wait  while  I  go  to  the  odther 
strate,  an  get  my  pay  for  a  small  job,  jist.'  '  Well,  Phe. 
lim,  ye'll  lave  yer  jacket  wid  me  the  while?  '  '  To  be 
gure  I  will,'  sis  Phelim,  for  the  whiskey  was  before  him. 


124  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

nn  he  wouldn't  stan  upon  thrifles.  So  they  drank  the 
drap  usquebaugh,  till  they  made  it  a  half  pint  apiece 
they  had  intil  them,  and  Modther  McGraw  tould  them 
that  divil  the  drap  more  they'd  get." 

"  Well  Dennis,  I  don't  see  whrt  all  this  has  to  do  with 
the  devil,  except  that  you  ti!-;e  his  name  in  vain  every 
five  minutes." 

"  Oh,  you  put  me  out  now ;  where  was  I?  " 
"  In   Mother  McGraw's  poteen  shop.     It  is  lucky  I 
did  put  you  out,  for  you  never  got  out  of  a  grog  shop 
»lone,  in  your  life." 

"  Don't  be  talkin  that  blackguardin  way,  Benjie,  but 
jist  tell  us  where  I  left  off." 

"  Where  Mother  McGraw  refused  the  liquor." 
"  Ah,  thrue  for  you.  Modther  McGraw  tould  that 
rollockin  blade,  Phelim  O'Donahoe,  rny  modther's  four- 
teent  cousin,  that  divil  a  drap  more  he'd  get,  an  wid  that 
Phelim  got  in  a  wild  murdtherin  passion  :  '  Modther 
McGraw,'  sis  he,  '  you  ugly  ould  ' — but  it  wouldn't  be 
fair,  Benjie,  to  tell  what  Phelim  called  her  in  his  cups, 
bekase,  whin  he  was  himself,  he  was  respcc'ful  an  per- 
lite — he  had  the  O'Donahoe  blood  in  him,  like'  meself, 
seein  he  was  me  modther's  fourteent  cousin.  Modther 
McGraw  she  tould  him  he'd  betther  get  his  pay  for  that 
job,  an  that  started  Phelim,  bekase,  if  the  troot  must 
come,  he'd  no  money  to  resave  at  all,  an  only  tould  her 
the  story  to  get  the  drap  liquor.  '  Modther  McGraw/ 
:sis  he,  '  gev  me  my  coat,  if  ye  plaze.'  '  Phelim  O'Don 
ahoe,'  sis  she,  '  ye  don't  get  it  till  ye  pay  me  my  bit  bil) 
iv  tree  shillins  an  four  pince.'  Wid  that  Phelim  makes 
a  grab  at  the  jacket,  but  Modther  McGraw,  to  kape  it 
safe,  she  stuck  her  purty  arms  through  the  slaves,  an 
away  she  wint  to  dale  out  a  hap' worth  iv  fcrden-can.dl.es 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  125 

to  a  gossoon  as  spake  for  them.  Whin  Modther  Mc- 
Graw  had  put  on  the  coat,  she  tought  she  had  floored 
Phelim  intirely,  but  what  does  he  do,  the  spalpeen,  but 
make  a  dirty  grab  at  a  sailor  jacket  as  laid  on  the  table, 
an  boult  direc'ly.  Modther  McGraw  she  springs  to 
the  door,  but  a  respecthable  lady,  an  kaper  iv  a  potheen 
shop,  wouldn't  be  sane  in  the  strate  wid  a  man's  coat 
on,  an  whin  she'd  pull  it  off,  it  stuck  to  her  shoulders, 
like  St.  Patrick's  currse  to  the  toads.  '  Pat  Donelly,' 
sis  she,  (that  was  one  iv  Phelim' s  friends,)  '  help  me  off 
wid  this  garmint.'  '  Divil  burn  my  fingers  if  I  do,'  sis 
he.  An  seein  she  was  a  big  woman,  Benjie,  an  Phe- 
lim.but  a  withe  of  a  man,  the  coat  wouldn't  come  off 
for  the  askin.  So  while  she  was  tryin  to  lug  off  the 
garmint,  Phelim  made  a  pair  of  legs  do  the  clane  thing 
for  him — " 

"  But  Dennis,  how  could  that  be,  when  he  had  drank 
whiskey  enough  to  put  his  legs  in  irons  ?  " 

"  You  belave  it  ?  A  half  pint  is  a  drap  in  the  say,  to 
a  stout  Irishman." 

"  But  you  said  Phelim  was  slender  as  a  withe." 
"  By  the  powers,  Ben,  if  you  mane  I  should  talk,  you 
must  hould  yer  tongue.  Phelim  walked  down  to  the 
quay,  an  wint  to  houldin  a  post  up.  Along  comes  the 
skipper  iv  a  brig  that  lay  convanient  to  the  wharf;  {  my 
man,'  sis  he,  '  are  you  an  able  sayman  '? '  At  that,  sis 
Phelim,  '  able  !  I'd  like  to  try  the  shillaleh  wid  him  that 
'ud  dispute  it.'  '  You're  the  fine  fellow  I  want,  jist,' 
sis  the  skipper,  '  an  you  shall  take  the  place  iv  a  run 
away,  for  I'll  be  goin  to  say  wid  the  tide.'  So  betwane 
palaverin  an  drivin,  he  gets  Phelim,  who  knowed  as 
much  of  saymanship  as  our  jintleman  passenger,  aboard 
11* 


126  CO11RECTEJ>     PROOFS. 

iv  his  brig,  an  to  say  they  wint,  to  be  sure,  that  avetaix 
The  name  iv  the  brig  has  gone  from  me  altogedther/' 

"  Never  mind  the  name,  Dennis." 

"  Niver  mind  'tis,  thin.  Well,  Phelim,  as  you  may 
suppose,  didn't  know  the  fore-topsil  halliards  from  the 
bucket-rope,  an  he  behaved  like — " 

"  A  blundering  Paddy." 

"  Get  out,  you  blackguardin  tief  o'  the  world.  Phe 
lim  did  tumble  round  the  deck  to  be  sure,  like  a  pig  in  a 
coach.  Whin  he'd  lift  up  his  leg  to  step,  he  couldn't 
aomehow  put  down  his  fut  where  he  meant  to,  at  all. 
The  brig  on  the  wind  as  she  was,  an  a  short  choppin 
say  runnin,  she  jerked  round,  like  a  pace  of  limon  in  a 
punch  bowl,  wid  two  or  tree  good  chaps  exercisin  the 
ladle." 

"  You're  an  unfeeling  son  of  a  gun,  Dennis." 

"  What  for,  I'd  like  to  know  I  " 

"  Why,  for  mentioning  punch — it  makes  my  tongue 
as  dry  as  a  powder  magazine." 

"  What's  the  differ  whedther  yours  be  dhry  or  wet, 
an  it's  mine  must  do  the  talkiu,  if  ye'd  let  me  ?  I  wish 
it  'ud  dhry  stiff,  an  thin  ye'd  kape  it  still  a  bit." 

"  It's  too  dry  now,  Dennis." 

"  Rig  it  out  intil  the  fog  thin,  and  that'll  take  out 
the  kinks  ;  hould  it  still,  any  way,  or  I'll  lash  a  pump- 
boult  athwart  your  muzzle,  and  sling  a  spritsail-yard 
for  you,  my  darlin.  Will  ye  be  aisy  wid  yer  nonsense  ? 
Well,  as  I  was  a  sayin,  Phelim  couldn't  find  his  say 
legs,  and  the  ould  brig — " 

"  Was  she  an  old  brig  1" 

Dennis  took  no  other  notice  of  this  interruption  than 
to  shake  his  fist  in  my  face. 

"  The  ould  brig  knocked   him   about  wickedly.     A 


TAR,    BRUSH     SKETCHES.  12* 

pitch,  an  Phelim  'ud  fetch  up  agen  the  windlass — a  send 
aft,  an  you  might  find  his  carcass  somewhere  on  deck 
by  the  main  hatch — a  lee  lurch,  an  he'd  be  stoppin  the 
scupper,  an  a  \vedther  roll  'ud  tumble  him  upon  the 
spars  alongside  the  long-boat.  And  thin  the  whiskey 
he'd  drunk — he  was  always  shy  o'  reckonin  vvid  Modther 
McGraw,  but  Ould  Niptin  made  him  begin  to  cast  up 
accounts  direc'ly,  '  Augh  !  murdther,'  sis  he,  '  augh — 
augh — I'll  die  suddinly — -augh — by  inches  ! — if  Father 
O'Rourke  were  here  to  gev  me  absouloution  jist — not  for 
the  whiskey — I've  not  kep  a  drap  iv  it — augh — but 
for  the  jacket  I  stowle,  any  how — -augh — urruck — augh ! 
^-murdther ! — augh — ur — urruck — murdther  ! — murd 
ther  ! '  '  Here  ! '  sis  the  skipper,  '  catch  hoult  here  b'ysr 
an  get  a  pull  o'  this  fore  shate  ! '  Phelim  couldn't  see 
anything  that  looked  like  a  shate,  poor  divil — but  a  bit 
o'  somethin  white  in  the  long  boat — so  hoult  he  grabbed 
iv  it,  and  the  cook  sung  out  bloody  war  to  him — '  Stop, 
stop,'  sis  the  nagur,  '  what  do  you  mane  at  all,  by  twitchin 
the  kiver  from  the  fresh  bafe  ?'  ' 

"  Did  the  nagur  talk  Irish  1" 

"  Oh,  hould  your  tongue ;  ROW  I  think  iv  it,  he  wasn't 
a  nagur.  The  captin  heard  the  row,  an  belavin  it  was 
the  liquor  in  him,  an  not  his  ignorance,  intirely,  he 
tould  Phelim  to  go  below  in  a  minnit — " 

"  He  didn't  disobey  orders  then." 

"  You're  right  he  didn't ;  when  he  was  tould  to  go 
below,  he  wasn't  long  a  doin  that  thing.  Down  he  wint 
and  staid  a  wake — what  are  you  laughin  at,  you  divil?" 

"  To  hear  your  circumstantial  detail." 

"  My  what !" 

"  You  seem  to  know  all  the  particulars." 

"  And  why  not  ?     Wasn't  Phelim  my  own  cousin, 


128  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

fourteent  cousin  by  my  modther's  side?     Wasn't  she  an 
O'Donahoe,  and — " 

"  Oh  thunder,  yes  ;  don't  get  into  your  family  tree 
again,  Dennis." 

"  It's  as  good  a  tree  as  yours,  I'm  thinkin,  and  bears 
a  sprig  of  sliillaleh  for  him  that's  blackguardin  it." 

"  Certainly,  Dennis,  true  as  the  gospel — I'll  hear  about 
it  some  other  time ;  now  I  want  to  hear  of  Phelim." 

"  Don't  bodther  me  thin.  Phelim  stuck  to  the  bunk 
till  it  was  a  bucket  of  wather  they  began  to  talk  about, 
and  thin  one  fine  day  he  crawled  out  and  kem  on  deck. 
'  Ah  Phelim,  lad,'  said  the  skipper,  '  glad  to  see  you 
look  betther.'  '  Thank  yer  honor,'  said  Phelim,  but  he 
tought  it  was  ungintlemanly,  any  way,  that  the  skipper 
didn't  axe  him  intil  the  cabin,  to  take  somethin  com- 
fortin.  '  Here,  Phelim,  its  wake  you  are  now,  take  the 
helium,  and  let  Jack  go  to  work — she  steers  aisy.' 
Well  Phelim  he  took  hoult,  and  the  skipper  went  for- 
rud.  '  Full  an  by,'  sis  Jack,  sis  he — '  ay,  ay,'  sis  Phelim, 
but  divil  a  bit  did  he  know  what  that  mint  at  all. 
Phelim  let  the  craft  do  her  own  steerin,  and  direc'ly 
she  was  clane  off  before  it.  '  Rape  her  up  four  pints 
more,'  bellered  the  skipper  ;  '  where  the  divil  are  you 
goin  wid  her  ? — Let  the  wedther  lache  of  the  topsil  lift 
a  bit.'  Phelim  down  wid  the  helium,  but  it  was  hit 
altogedther,  and  no  good  wit  wid  him,  as  you'll  find 
shortly." 

"  Oh,  I'd  swear  it,  Dennis.  No  countryman  of  yours 
ever  got  into  the  right  course,  except  by  accident. 
He  must  run  into  it." 

"  If  you  run  your  swate  face  agen  a  bunch  of  bones 
tied  up  ugly,  it'll  be  no  blundher  of  mine,  Ben  Fiferail, 
but  your  own  fault  altogedther.  As  I  tould  ye,  Phelim 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  129 

clapped  the  helium  down,  and  the  ould  brig  kem  up 
direc'ly.  Purty  soon  there  was  a  divil  of  a  shakin 
among  the  canvass — Phelim  didn't  like  the  looks  of  it 
at  all,  but  he  thought  what  was  sarce  for  goose 
was  sarce  for  gandther,  an  if  puttin  the  helium 
down  'ud  put  the  ould  craft  right  one  time,  by  the  same 
token  it  would  anodther.  So  the  more  he  shook  the 
wind  out,  the  harder  he  clapped  the  helium  down,  the 
captin  sinwin  out  '  what  do  ye  mane,  ye  bloody  black 
guard — its  all  aback  ye'll  be  direc'ly  ;  up,  up  !' — Wid 
that  Phelim  looked  up.  '  Up  wid  yer  helium,'  sis  the 
skipper.  Then  Phelim  laid  hoult  of  the  thiller  head, 
and  thried  to  jerrk  it  up,  as  ye'd  draw  a  pump-boult  wid 
a  handspike — an  not  doin  much  that  way,  down  he 
dhropped  on  his  marrer  bones,  and  claps  his  shoulder 
under  it.  '  Oh,  you  big  Irish  fool,'  sis  the  skipper,  an 
he  run  aft — " 

"  Let  me  ask  one  question,  Dennis." 

"  Where'd  be  the  use  of  deny  in,  when  you'd  axe, 
wedther  or  no !" 

"  Why  the  deuce  didn't  the  skipper  come  sooner, 
when  he  saw  Phelim  cutting  such  qualms  !  He  might 
have  slapped  her  flat  aback,  and  took  out  some  of  her 
light  sticks." 

"  Don't  be  such  a  gossoon  now,  as  to  think  all  this 
took  as  long  as  it  does  me  to  tell  it.  The  skipper  kem 
as  quick  as  he  could,  an  laid  hoult  of  the  thiller, 
an—" 

"  What  became  of  Phelim?" 

"  Oh,  the  next  thing  the  b'y  remimbers  at  all,  is 
that  he  found  himself  in  the  lee  scuppers — he  couldn't 
exac'ly  tell  how  'twas  he  kem  there,  but  the  sate  of  his 
trowsis  was  lame  for  a  mont  aftherwards.  All  hands 


130  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

set  to  bodtherin  Phelim,  an  a  stout  b'y  like  him  wouldn't 
stan  that  you  see.  The  blood  of  the  O'Donahoes,  I'm 
that  blood  meself,  by  my  modther's  side — " 

"  Oh,  blast  your  mother  !" 

"  Its  too  bad  that,  Benjie — if  it  was  a  man  had  said 
that  same,  I'd  raise  a  mousin  over  his  eye  'ud  be  a  beau 
ty  spot  for  a  twalmont." 

"  I  didn't  mean  so,  Dennis — your  mother  is  the  best 
woman  in  the  four  divisions  of  Ireland,  no  doubt." 

"  Och  hone  !  Och  hone  !  It's  dead  she  is,  but  she 
was  all  that  an  more  too.  Well,  if  you  didn't  mane  it, 
you  didn't,  an  no  more  said.  Phelim's  blood  was  up, 
an  he  gev  it  to  them  betther  than  they  sint ;  a  nice  gift 
of  spache  he  had,  an  no  wondther,  seein  he  was  an 
O'Donahoe,  and  they  have  always  been  remarkable  for 
spaches — " 

"  Dying  speeches?" 

"  To  be  sure — dyin  or  livin,  livin  or  dead.  What 
are  ye  laughin  at,  Benjie?" 

"  It  would  be  a  hanging  matter  to  tell,  Dennis." 

"  Rape  it  to  yourself,  thin.  Phelim  kicked  up  such 
a  hullabaloo  on  the  forekassel  wid  his  red  rag,  that  the 
captin  kem  forrud  an  tould  him  to  be  aisy.  WTid  that 
Phelim  up  an  shook  his  two  fists  so  near  the  captin's 
face  that  they  stirred  his  whiskers — and  thin  they  fell 
upon  Phelim,  the  gang  o'  them,  and  put  a  pair  of  lace 
ruffles  on  his  wrists,  an  stowed  him  away  in  the  cable 
tier,  betwane  decks.  He  laid  there  four  days,  and  thin 
the  skipper  knocked  off  his  wristers,  an  tould  him  to  go 
on  deck  an  be  quiet — an  so  he  did.  Well,  that  night, 
the  skipper  tould  him  he  was  a  good-for-nothing  booby, 
an  sis  he,  '  I'll  horrse  ye,  ye  dirthy  block'id,  an  worrk 
ye  up.'  Thin  Phelim  begun  to  show  a  bit  o'  the  blood 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  131 

iv  anO'Donahoe  agen,  but  the  skipper  sings  out,  '  stew 
ard,  my  irons  !'  and  Phelim's  Irish  fell  -in  a  minnit. 
'  Now  Fhelim,'  sis  the  skipper,  sis  he,  '  I  minded  an  Irish 
pinnant  on  the  wedther  clue  of  the  maintopsil,  jist  you 
go  up  an  bring  it  down,  will  ye  ?'  It  was  darrk  an — " 

"  How  could  the  skipper  see  a  rope-yarn  aloft,  in  the 
dark?" 

"  Are  you  a  fool  intirely,  Ben?  Couldn't  the  skipper 
have  sane  it  forenint  the  night  kern  ?  An  barrin  that, 
could'nt  he  see  the  eye  iv  a  murphy,  on  the  ryal  thruck, 
in  the  night,  if  he  wanted  to  sind  a  b'y  up  to  cut  it  out, 
to  worrk  him  ?  Well,  Phelim  crawled  up  the  riggin,  an 
it's  careful  he  was  to  stick  to  it  like  a  barnacle  to  a  foul 
bottom.  Divil  a  bit  did  he  know  where  to  look  for  the 
clue  iv  the  topsil,  in  a  darrk  night;  he'd  a  paped  intil 
the  captin's  chist  for  it,  soon  as  any  way.  He  got  to  the 
futtock  shrouds  an  there  he  stopped — till  the  skippers's 
mout  opened  agen,  wid  all  sorts  iv  hard  names  for  him. 
'  Oh  murdther,  Phelim  O'Donahoe/  sis  he  to  himself — " 

"  Who  heard  him  ?" 

"  '  Oh  murdther,  where'll  I  findthe  pinnant,  wid  Erin 
go  Bragh,  an  a  beautiful  harp  on  it  ?  Its  not  in  this 
dirthy  ship  at  all.'  Jist  then  he  felt  a  warrm  breath  at 
his  ear,  an  a  v'ice  said — '  go  on  the  yard,  Phelim,  my 
son.'  Wid  that  it  was  afeard  he  was.  Ja  ! — Jasus  he 
mint  to  holler,  but  a  hand  wid  a  glove  to  it  stopped  his 
mout,  an  it's  hot  that  hand  was,  through  the  glove,  an  a 
nasty  smell  wid  it,  that  took  Phelim's  breath  away. 
'  Get  out  on  the  yard,  you  lubberly  baste,'  sis  the  skip 
per.  '  An  go  on,  my  son,'  sis  the  v'ice  agin.  '  O  murd 
ther,'  sis  Phelim, '  I  can't  holler,  any  way,  for  I'm  struck 
spacheless — an  I  can't  go  out  on  that  big  ugly  stick,  for 
if  I'd  fall  and  dhrown,  how  would  they  wake  Phelim 


.  ]  32  CORRECTED      1'  R  O  O  F  S  . 

O'Donahoe '? '  Wid  that  he  was  lifted  bodily,  an  divil 
a  so\vl  could  ho  see  all  the  while,  but  his  arrm  felt  like 
it  had  a  hot  striving  round  it.  The  v'ice  tould  him 
whore  to  find  the  clue  iv  the  topsil,  an  out  he  crawled, 
bekase  iv  the  fear  he  was  in.  '  An  now,'  sis  Phelim, 
'  I'd  like  that  pinnnnt  they  tould  about.'  The  v'ice 
told  him  it  was  the  ropeyarn.  '  Have  ye  found  the  pin- 
nant  ?'  sis  the  skipper.  The  blood  o'  the  O'Donahoes 
was  up,  an  Phelim  was  rnakin  up  his  mout  to  call  the 
skipper  a  dirthy  blackguard,  for  callin  a  sthray  rope- 
yarn  an  Irish  pinnant,  whin  the  v'ice  answers,  '  Ay,  ay, 
sirr  !'  '  Am  I  spakin  or  not?'  sis  Phelim  to  himself,  for 
the  v'ice  sounded  so  much  like  his  own  beauthiful  tongue, 
that  he  couldn't  be  sure.  '  Come  down  wid  yerself, 
thin,'  sis  the  skipper,  an  '  ay,  ay,  sirr  !'  sis  the  v'ice 
again.  '  Ah,  well,'  thought  Phelim,  '  Father  Murrphy 
tould  me  iv  the  wondhers  iv  the  dape,  and  this  must  be 
one  o'  those  same  ;  but  whedther  I  sid  ay  or  not,  I'll 
be  kapin  my  word,  an  go  down.'  Wid  that  he  gets  in, 
but  whin  he  got  to  the  bunt,  what  should  he  see  but 
somebody  settin  there  on  his  heels,  wid  a  coil  o'  rope 
undher  him,  an  a  long  black  coat.  '  It's  a  hurry  ye're  in,' 
sis  black  coat.  '  Divil  a  word  o'  lie  in  that,'  sis  Phelim. 
'  Oh,  but  there  is,  though,'  sis  black  coat.  An  sure 
enough  there  was,  for  Phelim  found  himself  in  no  hurry 
at  all,  by  rason  that  his  legs  wouldn't  move  undher  him. 
'  Now,  Phelim,'  sis  the  v'ice,  for  that  an  the  black 
coat  was  the  same,  '  ye  touid  the  skipper  a  big  lie  ye 
did,  whin  ye  passed  yerself  for  a  sayman  wid  Modther 
McCraw's  jacket  on.  Ye're  mine  intirely,  for  its  no 
absouloution  ye'll  get,  anno  priest widin  a  tousan  mile  o' 
ye.'  Thin  Phelim  thried  to  say  his  prayers,  but  not  an 
ave  'ud  come  to  him  ;  he'd  left  his  bades  in  pawn  wid 


TAR     BRUSH      SKETCHES.  133. 

Modther  McGraw,  for  a  drap  whiskey,  the  wicked 
aowl.  '  Come  down  !'  sis  the  skipper.  '  Ay,  ay,  sirr,' 
sis  the  v'ice  agin.  '  Will  ye  lit  me  spake  at  all  T  sis 
Phelim.  'To  me,  as  much  as  ye  plaze,'  sis  the  v'ice. 
'  I'll  not  do  that  thing,'  sis  Phelim.  '  As  ye  plaze,'  sis 
black  coat ;  '  I'll  wait  as  long  as  you  ;'  an  wid  that  he 
dhrew  a  pipe  from  his  pouch,  sthruck  fire  wid  his 
knuckles,  and  wint  to  smokin.  By  an  by,  sis  he,  '  it's 
not  your  skin  I'd  like  to  be  in,  Phelim  O'Donahoe : 
the  skipper  will  bate  you  into  moutfuls  for  a  midge.' 
'  Let  me  go,  thin,'  sis  Phelim  ;  an  the  skipper  hollered 
agin.  Phelim  thried  to  say,  '  I  can't,'  but  the  words 
kem  out  of  his  moat,  '  ay,  ay,  sir,  direc'ly.'  Thin  the 
black  coat  coughed,  an  sid, '  bad  luck  to  ye,  Phelim, 
for  makin  me  laugh  ;  I  got  the  smoke  in  my  troat.  Jis 
don't  bodther  yerrself  an  me  too;  I'll  have  ye  any  way, 
— will  ye  go  wid  me  or  no  ?'  Wid  that  Phelim  tought 
no,  but  it  was  yes  whin  it  kem  out  iv  his  mout,  an  the 
ould  un  laughed  agen.  '  Now  Phelim,  I'll  tell  ye,  ye 
shall  go  for  this  wunst,  but  I'll  call  for  ye  a  year  from 
this  night — it's  eight  bells  that's  jist  sthruck,  an  ye'll 
want  to  kape  yer  watch  below  sure — for  it's  that  watch 
ye  like  bist.  At  eight  bells  a  year  hence,  ye'll  be 
ready?'  Phelim  sis  'yis,'  for  divil  anodther  word  could 
he  spake,  an  the  ould  un  got  up — an  wid  the  coil  iv 
rope  that  Phelim  saw,  he  took  tree  turns  round  his 
body.  'You'll  lave  that  ?'  sis  Phelim.  'If  ye'll  want 
it,'  sis  the  divil.  Wid  that  he  tossed  him  the  ind,  but 
Phelim  dhropped  it  like  a  hot  praty.  'Now,'  sis  the 
divil,  '  I'll  know  you  in  a  tousan ;  it's  my  mark  you've 
got  on  yer  fingers.'  " 

"  But  didn't  he  make  a  sailor  of  him  ?" 

"  To  be  sure ;  'ud  the  ould  un  have  Phelim  no  sailor, 
12 


134  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

wid  his  mark  on  him  ?  Wid  a  very  dacent  bow.  he  bid 
Phelim  good  avenin,  an  put  his  pipe  in  his  pouch. 
'  Stop,'  sis  Pheliin,  for  he  was  a  very  perlite  body, 
seein,  like  meself  he  was  an  O'Donahoe,  '  stop,'  sis  he, 
'you'll  burrn  yer  pocket !'  '  Oh,'  sis  the  ould  un,  '  I 
don't  mind  thrifles,'  an  thin  he  was  missin.  Phelim 
kem  down  and  the  skipper  had  his  mout  made  up  for  4 
jaw  wid  him — but  instid,  sis  he, — '  get  out,  Phelim 
O'Donaboe.  for  a  scabby  blackguard  :  if  it's  brimstone 
von  rub  yerself  wid.  kape  away  from  me.'  The  next 
day  Phelim  took  hoult  like  an  ould  hand — " 

"  Better  than  his  master,  I  suppose." 

"  Altosedther.  The  divil  can't  be  a  complete  sailor, 
by  rason  he  daren't  look  aloft,  but  Phelim — :: 

"Got  along  nicely  of  course.  Did  the  devil  call  for  him?" 

"  To  be  sure — whin  did  the  divil,  or  any  odther  cred- 
itbor  miss  pay-day  ?  Phelim  bate  all  hands  in  sayman- 
ship  for  the  year,  and  whin  the  time  was  nigh  up,  he 
stood  at  the  helium.  He  had  turned  the  last  glass,  an 
all  at  wunst  he  let  the  vessel  knock  about  like  a  crazy 
one.  'The  divil  is  in  her!'  sis  the  skipper.  'Sure 
enough,'  sis  Phelim,  an  gev  a  big  groan.  '  It's  at  yer 
ould  thricks  ye  are,'  sis  the  skipper.  '  I  can't  help 
that,  sinv  sis  Phelim.  'Well  thin,  the  divil  fly  away 
•wid  you,  for  a  big  booby  as  ye  are,'  sis  the  skipper. 
'  Oh,  murdther !  murdther  !  don't  wish  that,'  sis  Phe 
lim,  '  for  it's  jist  the  thing  I'm  afeard  iv.'  Jist  thin 
there  was  a  clattherin  undther  the  top:  the  divil  was 
shakin  himself  for  a  fly  away  wid  Pbelim — it  was  out 
that  the  sand  was  jist,  an  wid  his  pipe  in  his  mout,  the 
divil  rested  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  an  his  chin  on  his 
hands,  an  waited  for  the  minnit.  '  Look  there  !'  sis 
Phelim  :  an  whin  the  skipper  looked  he  saw  the  diviJ's 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES  135 

two  burnin  eves,  glaring  at  Phelim,  like  big  balls  of 
fire.  '  Murdther !  murdtber  !  the  glass  is  almost  out 
intirely  !'  '  An  thin  what !'  sis  the  skipper.  '  The 
divil  will  fly  away  with  Phelim  O'Donahoe  !'  '  Is  that 
the  bargain  ?  thin  be  don't  fly  wid  yo^u  at  all !' — an  thin 
the  skipper  jerrked  the  glass  out  o'  the  binnacle,  an 
broke  it  in  two  paces,  an  he  gev  one  half  a  toss  due 
Xort,  an  the  odther  Sout, — an  sis  he  to  the  ould  un, 
*  oh,  you  big  black  blackguard,  off  wid  you  !  to  h-41  wid 
you ! '  " 

"  Don't  swear,  Dennis." 

"  Well  I  won't,  but  that's  what  the  skipper  said. 
He  tould  him  to  go  home  agen — an  where 's  the  harrm 
in  that  ?  He  gave  a  big  howl,  an  flew  away  direc'ly, 
wid  his  pipe  out  intirely." 

"Is  that  all,  Dennis!'' 

"  Every  word — barrin  that  the  backstays  on  bote 
sides  were  sthranded  where  his  wings  sthruck,  an  Phe 
lim  had  a  job  iv  the  saymanship  the  divil  larnt  him,  to 
mend  his  mischief  afther  him ;  an  the  paint  on  the  top 
was  smoked  wid  a  nasty  yeller,  like  the  way  Callao 
paints  ship  for  u>." 


IX    BOSTOS    HARBOR. 

"  We'll  not  get  up  the  night,  Ben,  for  I  heard  the 
pilot  tell  the  captin  he:d  come  to  an  anchor." 

"I  know  it — too  bad,  ain't  it,  Dennis?" 

"  Kape  cool,  Benjamin  darlint — yer  modther'll  do  as 
well  widout  ye  one  night  more,  as  she's  done  the  twal- 
niont  an  over." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  but — " 

The  bustle  of  coming  to,  handing  sails.  &c.  cut  off 
our  conversation.  We  lay  at  anchor,  in  sight  of  Boston, 


136  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

and,  by  a  little  stretch  of  fancy,  almost  within  hearing 
of  the  buzz  and  din  of  the  city.  It  is  the  very  dulles* 
and  most  anxious  hour  of  absence  from  home,  the  last 
one  before  communicating  with  friends  on  shore.  Alt 
the  hopes  which  -have  buoyed  up  the  mind  during 
the  passage,  become,  particularly  when  tantalized  as 
we  were,  "  hopes  deferred,"  and  indeed  "  make  the 
heart  sick."  One  dreams  of  friends  and  happiness  at 
home  with  a  relish,  and  hugs  the  phantoms  to  bis  heartr 
while  he  knows  the  next  hour  cannot  bring  a  "  change 
o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dream,"  and  substitute  unwelcome 
intelligence  for  happy  anticipation.  But  when  he  is 
aware  that  a  few  hours,  at  the  extent,  will  bring  to  him 
the  substance  of  the  shadows  which  have  hung  around., 
and  almost  conversed  with  him — or  blight  his  dreams, 
with  the  information  that  one  or  more,  perchance  the 
dearest  of  his  visions,  are  but  visions  of  the  departed — 
the  possibility  of  the  latter  event  is  a  bar  to  all1  happi 
ness  in  contemplation  of  the  immediate  future.  He  is 
miserable — feverish  with  anxiety — hope  an  instant  lull? 
— nay,  excites  hrm — and  anon,  he  thrusts  her  smiling; 
promises  aside,  contemning  them  as  but  aggravating; 
and  illusive  precursors  of  the  grief  which  awaits  him. 
Who  knows  what  friends  have  gone  down  to  the  grave,, 
or  with  what  countenance  living  friends  will  receive 
him  t  Who  can  anticipate  the  character  of  the  wel 
come  1  Will  it  be  warm  J  cdd  1  or  no  welcome  at  all  * 
Is  she,  the  dearest,  still  the  affectionate,  confiding,  or 
has  she — 

"  '  Oh,  whack  !  Judy  O'Flanagan  ! '  " 

Bah !  Why,  Mr  Benjamin  Fiferail,  that  is  a  pretty 
exclamation,  after  such  an  affecting  strain  as  you  played! 
us.  I  verily  began  to  look  for  my  pocket-handkerchve£ 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  137 

I  know  it,  my  dear  reader,  (you  are  a  lady,  for  a 
dozen,)  but  it's  just  the  exclamation  Dennis  uttered,  as 
he  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  I  could  forgive  it 
easier  than  the  blow.  I  was  leaning  over  the  rail,  so 
liloquizing  "  just  that  way,"  when  his  fist  came  down 
upon  me,  like  a  blow  from  a  pile-driver. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  To  scatther  the  blue  divils,  jist.  Divil  a  bit  nearer 
ye'll  get  to  the  shore,  for  stannin  an  countin  the  staples." 

We  adjourned  to  the  forecastle. 

"Well,"  said  Bill,  "I'm  glad  we're  'ome  agen." 

"  No  you  ain't  to  home,  by  a  darned  sight,"  said  our 
Greenhorn,  a  regular-built  Yankee.  A  year's  salt-water 
washing  had  not  eradicated  the  marks  of  his  origin, 
— but  the  bits  of  salt  which  adhered  to  him  only  made 
his  Yankee  peculiarities  stand  out  in  better  relief.  "  No 
you  ain't  to  home,  by  a  darned  sight.  I  guess  there's 
as  much  odds  as  difference  between  our  city  of  Boston, 
and  your  tarnal  smoky  towns  of  London  and  Liverpool," 

"  Oh,  shut  yer  mout,  bote  iv  yez,  an  no  lip  about 
counthries,  at  all.  London  an  Liverpool,  an  Boston, 
bote  iv  'em,  isn't  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  day  wid 
our  beauthiful  Dublin." 

"  Talkin  about  cities,  guess  you  never  was  up  where 
I  come  from.  Sich  a  place — growin  town — don't  see 
one  like  it  in  every  day's  ride,  by  as  much  as  tew  chalks." 

"  Some  bit  iv  a  bog,  wid  a  matin-house  on  the  edge 
iv  it — murdther!  what  a  name  for  a  church  !  " 

"  Get  aout !  America  is  like  Ireland  I  don't  think. 

Tell  you  what  'tis,  Dennis,  we  don't  have  no  bogs  here — 

they  are  all  mill-privileges — miles  of  gals — fine  as  silk 

— speculation — hurra-a  !     Let  Aminadab  Sawyer  show 

12* 


138  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

his  face  in  that  neighborhood,  an    if  he    don't  cut  a 
swathe,  I  calk'late  'taint  many  fellers  that  can.  " 
"  What'll  ye  be  afther  doin  in  the  bush1? " 
"  Dewin?     Why,  fust  go  off,  on  goes  my  claw-ham 
mer  jacket — " 

"  Hould  on,  Amminy,  what's  that]  " 
"  My  Jong-tailed  blue.  " 

"  Oh,  yer  coat — it's  too  salt  for  me  you  are,  altoged- 
ther.  Well  ?  " 

"  '  Mister  Pimento,'  ses  I,  '  jest  put  the  tacklin  on 
that  old  critter  o'  yourn.'  An  then,  ses  I,  '  C-e-e-iup 
yer  long  tail !  or  you'll  git  a  taste  o'  the  long-tailed  oats, 
I'm  thinkin.'  " 

"  Long  hoats  1  That's  the  corn  Cobbet  told  'em  'ow 
to  plant." 

"Cobbett?     Is  he  British?" 
"  Yes." 

"  Don  know  him.  Guess  he  never  was  up  our  way, 
cause  I  never  hearn  tell  of  a  man  o'  that  name  gittin  a 
lickin  there." 

"  Getting  a  whippin  !  I  don't  see  'ow  that  proves 
hany  think." 

"  You  don't !  Well,  jest  look  here  a  brace  of  shakes. 
As  Squire  Jones  used  to  say,  the  case  lays  in  a  nut-shell. 
If  Cobbin,  or  any  other  tarnal  foreign  Englishman,  was 
to  undertake  to  show  aour  folks  how  to  plant  their  corn, 
I  reckon  they  wouldn't  call  a  meetin  to  take  the  sense 
o'  the  town,  afore  they  gin  him  an  almighty  thrashin. 
So,  seein  nobody  o'  that  name  has  been  licked,  I  take 
it  that  nobody  never  undertook  to  teach  nobody  how  to 
plant  their  corn." 

"  Oh,  your  hignorance  excuses  you." 

"  Hignorance  !  Well,  now  look  here,  Bill  British.  If 


TAR     BRUSH      SKETCHES. 

you'd    a  ever   seen    Noah   Webster's    Dictionary,  you 
wouldn't  a  called  ignorance,  hignorance.  Oh,  git  aout ! ' 

"  Hignorant,  or  hignorant,  it's  hall  the  same  hany 
way,  an  it's  just  what  spells  your  name." 

"  Now  none  o'  your  darned  insinuations — right  here 
under  the  guns  of  Fort  Independence,  tew!  If  I  was 
President  Jackson,  I'd  make  a  law  that  there  shouldn't 
no  more  Englishmen  come  over.  Ignorant!  Why,  'od 
rot  an  darn  ye  to  darnation,  look  here  !  " 

Here  Aminadab  Sawyer  twiched  up  the  cover  of  his 
chest,  dove  under  his  clothes  and  "  curiosities,"  hauled 
out  a  tin  box,  opened  it  with  the  triumphant  air  of  an 
advocate  who  has  discovered  a  poser  for  his  antagonist, 
and  handed  it  to  Bill. 

"  There!  "  said  he,  poking  his  finger  at  it,  as  if  he 
feared  it  would  bite,  "  jest  you  take  partic'lar  notice  of 
what's  on  that  piece  of  paper,  an  then  say  I'm  ignorant 
if  you  think  it's  wholesome.  Right  side  up,  if  you 
please.  W'hy,  can't  you  read  without  spellin  it  aout?  " 

"  I  don't  see  what  I'm  to  do  with  your  protection." 

"  Protection  !  Well,  if  Parson  Monotonous,  and 
Squire  Jones,  and  Reuben  Pimento,  Abijah  Speedwell, 
Rehoboth  Hunt,  and  Jeroboam  Hough,  Selackmen  of 
the  town  of  Cedarville,  wouldn't  a  haw-haw-ed  to  hear 
that,  I  miss  my  guess.  Protection!  why,  you  darned 
etarnal  fool,  that's  my  character  !  " 

"  Ho,  ay,  from  your  last  place  of  sarvice." 

"  Sarvice !  a  free-born  American  citizen  of  these 
United  States  go  to  sarvice  ! — it's  enough  to  make  a 
minister  swear,  an  I  will  swear — damn  it !  " 

"  Take  care,  boy — take  care — don't  damn  me." 

"  I  didn't — I  didn't — I  damned  it — don't  you  know 
grammar  ?" 


140  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

"  Oh,  jist  stop  yer  blather,"  said  Dennis,  interposing*, 
"  hould  yer  bravvlin,  an  be  paceable,  jist  at  home,  as 
we  are.  Rade  that  paper,  Aminydab,  an  thin  tell  us 
about  Sayderville." 

"  Yes  ;  '  Mr  Pimento,'  ses  I,  '  put  yer  tacklin  on  the 
hoss— '  " 

"  Botheration,  b'y,  don't  be  tuckin  away  that  paper. 
If  indade  an  indade  you  are  not  ignorant,  as  Bill  here 
sis,  let's  know  it.  It's  meself  that  have  doubts — you 
must  rade  the  paper,  wedther  or  no." 

"  Why,  a  feller  don't  really  like  altogether,  to  read  a 
paper  out  loud,  that  ses  right  out,  pint  blank,  that  he's 
ony  one  notch  below  the  master,"  stammered  Amina- 
dab,  with  a  sort  of  a  do-coax-me-to  look.  Dennis  un 
derstood  it. 

"  Niver  mind,  thin,  Aminydab,  we'll  not  hurt  yer 
falins  that  way — lave  alone  radin  it,  an  tell  us  what  ye'll 
do  at  home." 

But  Aminadab,  with  his  voice  pitched  an  octave  above 
his  usual  tone,  had  already  commenced  with  a  nasal 
twang,  and  without  regard  to  such  trifles  as  punctuation 
and  inflections  of  the  voice,  he  sang  through  the  follow 
ing  certificate  : — 

"  This  is  to  certify,  that  Aminadab  Sawyer  is  a  ]ad  of  good 
moral  walk  and  conversation,  and  has  deported  himself  in  such 
wise,  by  attention  to  his  studies,  as  to  meiit  the  approbation  of  his 
instructor.  DILWORTH  ACCIDENCE." 

"I  certify,  that  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  the 
above  is  the  character  of  Mr  Sawyer. 

SAVED-BY-GRACE  MONOTONOUS, 

Minister  of  the  Gospel." 
"  We  conquer  in  the  above. 

REUBEN  PIMENTO,     "1       _.  ,    . 
ABIJAH  SPEEDWELL,  I      Sel^en 

REHOBOTH  HUNT,         f  „   ,  •'   .,,    , 

JEROBOAM  HOUGH,       I  Cedarville." 


TAR      BRUSH       SKETCHES.  141 

"  Whereas,  the  respectable  gentlemen  whose  names  are  above 
signed  and  affixed,  have  seen  fit  to  give  the  young  man,  Arriina- 
dab  Sawyer,  their  endorsement  and  approval,!  have  no  hesitation 
in  affixing  my  own  :  Provided  always,  that  my  signature,  so  signed, 
affixed  and.  appended,  shall  not  be  construed  into  any  warranty 
for  reparation  of  any  mischief,  damage,  or  breach  of  trust,  which 
he,  the  said  Aminadab,  may  commit  after  the  date  of  these  pre&- 
ents,  or  which  he  may  have  committed  prior  hereto. 

ARTEMAS  JONES, 
Counsellor  and  Attorney  at  Law." 
"  Cedarville,  December  1st,  18 — ." 

"  What  d'ye  think  o'  that  for  a  recommend — guess 
it'll  carry  me  a'most  any  where,  hey?" 

"  It  strikes  me  that  Squire  Jones  is  rather  apocryphal." 

"  Guess  he  is,  faith — rather  goes  ahead  of  the  minis 
ter  in  most  things — sich  a  recommend  as  his'n  isn't  to 
be  had  every  day.  Worth  a  trifle  to  me,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  You'll  take  it  in  your  pocket,  and  apply  for  a  mate's 
berth  next  voyage,  won't  you,  Aminadab  ?  " 

"  Shouldn't  wonder  if  I  did — don't  tell  every  body 
what  I  mean  to  dew.  One  voyage  is  enough  to  learn  a 
feller  like  me  seamanship — know  the  craft  all  fore  an 
aft.  Wouldn't  give  a  feller  a  certificate  on  that  pint, 
would  ye  Mister  Fiferail  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  had  better  ask  the  captain." 

"  You  don't !  Why,  do  you  know  he's  a  leetle  mite  too 
much  stuck  up  for  my  money  1  Feels  his  oats — ama- 
zin'ly." 

"As  how?" 

"  Had  a  cegar  one  night,  real  Spanish,  not  half 
smoked.  Six  bells,  second  mate  sung  out,  '  hold  the 
reel  !'— run  aft—" 

"Smoking?" 

"  Sartin — wa'n't  a  goin  to  throw  away  a  cegar't  I 
paid  a  cent  for.  Says  the  captain,  says  he,  '  throw  that 


142  CORRECTED      I' ROOFS. 

nasty  thing  overboard.'  An  so  I  did — couldn't  disobey 
orders,  you  know.  But  that  wa'n't  all.  Says  he,  '  ef 
ever  you  come  aft  smokin  agin,  I'll  smoke  you.'  Then 
agin,  t'other  mornin,  stood  at  the  helium — old  man 
come  up,  peeped  all  round  at  the  weather, — '  pleasant 
day,  captain,' says  I.  'Who  told  you  to  speak  ?' says 
he.  Oh  no,  Mister  Fiferail,  couldn't  think  o'  askin  him 
for  a  recommend." 

"  Who  told  you  to  Mister  me  to-night  ?  Never  heard 
you  do  it  before  ?"' 

"  Didn't  ?     Well,  I  allers  thought  I  did." 

"  An  so,  me  darlint,  you  mane  to  come  Paddy  over 
him,  do  ve  ?  Hould  on  a  bit,  an  I'll  give  ye  a  carac- 
ther  ;  an  if  Ben  here'll  put  it  on  the  paper,  it'll  be  the 
makin  iv  ye." 

"  'Greed." 

"  In  the  first  place,  say  his  protection  is  iv  no  use  till 
him  at  all,  by  rason  there's  no  disputiri  he's  a  regular 
Yankee." 

"  Good,  stop  a  minit.  I  say,  you  Bill  British,  can't 
we  trade  ? — sell  the  protection  out  an  out  for  fifty  cents, 
an  take  an  order  on  the  cap'n.  Good  as  new — never 
used  it — cost  me  more,  a  darned  sight,  considerin  time 
an  all.  What  next  ?" 

"  Say  he's  like  a  grane  dhry  stick,  cut  off  iv  the  bush 
an  dhried  wid  the  barrk  on,  so  he's  not  so  graue  as  he 
looks,  an  a  dale  betther  man  than  his  modther." 

"  Oh  git  aout !     You're  makin  a  fool  of  a  feller." 

"  Divil  a  bit,  my  b'y  wid  a  hard  name,  the  Lord  has 
saved  us  that  throuble.  Say  he's  always  first  on  the 
topsil  yarrd,  an  sticks  to  the  bunt  like  a  sailor  ;  an 
that  he's  a  capithal  hand  a-boarrd — " 

"  That's  the  thing  !" 


TAR       BRUSH       SKETCHES.  143 

"  To  kape  bread  from  mouldin." 

"  I'll  be  darned  if  I  stand  that ;  it's  no  kind  of  a 
recommend  at  all." 

"  Well,  thin,  it's  the  bist  we  can  do  for  ye  ;  an  seem 
you  don't  like  it,  you  must  do  as  Benjie  tould  ye — go 
to  the  skipper." 

"  'Spose  you  think  I'm  'fraid  tew.  Aint  by  a  long 
ways.  I'm  as  good  as  he,  an  my  father  was  as  good  4 
man  as  his'n.  Free  country — guess  I  aint  beholden 
to  him." 

"  Bravo  !  ye're  a  lad  of  spirit,  to  be  sure,  but  don't  let 
it  be  all  talk.  I'd  like  to  see  you  in  yer  own  town,  J 
would,  cuttin  a  swell  an  astonishin  yer  rnodther.  But 
ye  niver  was  to  say  afore  ?" 

"No." 

"  I  tought  as  much,  an  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  been 
at  all,  if  I  didn't  know  it — don't  get  mad,  it's  only 
bekase  it  sits  aisy  on  you.  Will  ye  know  how  to  carry 
sail  whin  ye  get  ashore?" 

"  Guess  I  shall." 

"  Oh,  but  you  won't  though.  Harrk  while  we  tell 
ye."  ' 

"  You  must  clap  a  patch  o'  tar  on  your  helbows  and 
on  your  trowsers." 

"  Thrue,  that's  better  nor  a  recommind.  Whin  you 
see  yer  modther,  you  must  say — '  damn  it,  my  ould  un, 
how  d'ye  wedther  it  ?'  " 

"  Yes,  and  if  a  breeze  comes  up,  sing  hout,  '  ello, 
hold  lady,  hunreeve  your  bed-cords,  and  let's  send  down 
the  chimblies.'  " 

"  An  harkee,  don't  forget  what  I'll  tell  ye,  now. 
Remimber,  no  thrue  sailor  will  slape  widout  the  roar 
iv  the  ocean  is  in  his  ears — " 


144  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

"  Gorry,  but  they  hain't  got  no  sign  of  an  ocean  up  to 
Cedarville." 

"  Niver  mind,  put  yer  modther  out  doors  wid  a  quart 
jx>t  an  a  bucket  iv  wather,  an  tell  her  to  trow  it  on  the 
windy." 

"Now  look  here,  you  tuke  me  for  a  nateral  fool — jist 
git  your  land-tacks  aboard — " 

"  That's  it,"  and  Dennis  lent  him  a  slap  on  the  back 
as  he  spoke  ;  "  that's  it,  me  darlin — you  spake  like 
somebody  now — " 

"  Well,  you  needn't  pound  a  feller  to  death — aint  a 
chokin.  You  come  up  to  Cedarville,  and  I'll  show  you 
the  lay  of  the  land,  I  guess." 

"  Bravo  !  again.  We'll  do  that  thing,  I  and  Ben 
Fiferail." 

"  All  hands  !  up  anchor,  ahoy  !" 


LAND   TACKS    ABOARD. 

"  Now,  Benjie,  lay  us  alongside  o'  that  shop  door, 
han'somely." 

"  Whoa  !" 

"  Misther  Amini — Am — spake  it,  Benjie — divil  burrn 
me  if  I  can." 

"  Do  you  know  a  Mr  Aminadab  Saywer  in  this 
town  ?" 

"  Why,  do  you  want  to  see  him  1" 

"  Now  what  'ud  he  ask  the  question  for  if  he  didn't  ? 
Why  don't  ye  say  yes  or  no,  an  done  wid  it  1" 

"  'Cause  I  thought  if  he  did  want  to  see  him,  might 
find  him  up  to  Squire  Jones's,  where  he's  gone  to  fix 
his  bucket  rope." 

"  No,  he  aint  there,  Mr  Pimento,"  said  another ; 
"  told  me  he'd  done  the  bucket-rope,  an  was  gwine  up 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  145 

to  the  meetin'us  to  overhaul  the  bell-rope,  as  he  calls  it. 
Says  'taint  safe." 

"  Oh  it  isn't  !  "  said  Dennis,  giving  me  a  punch  ; 
<(  did  he  tell  the  razon  1" 

"  Yes — said  it  might  carry  away  the  sax'n  if  'twant 
looked  after,  an  he  wonders  'tasn't  afore  now." 

Dennis  threw  himself  back  and  his  open  mouth 
paralleled  the  chaise  top — a  front  view  of  the  mouth 
inside  the  chaise  would  have  suggested,  to  a  man  with 
large  comparison,  the  idea  of  a  nest  of  measures.  The 
horse  started  at  the  sudden  jerk  of  the  shafts,  but  when 
a  loud  and  indescribable  laugh  issued  from  the  open 
portal  of  Dennis's  head,  the  poor  beast  was  astonished 
— he  pricked  one  ear,  then  the  other,  then  found  his 
legs — and  the  way  he  dashed  down  Main  Street, 
Cedarville,  was  a  "  caution  to  parents  " — at  least  so 
said  the  next  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser. 

The  gang  about  the  store,  and  the  people  who  started 
out  on  either  side  of  the  road,  made  all  sorts  of  noises, 
charitably  intended  to  stop  the  horse,  no  doubt,  but 
serving  the  usual  purpose  of  frightening  him,  and  doub 
ling  his  speed.  The  reins  we  had  lost,  as  they  lay 
lightly  over  the  dasher  at  the  time  of  starting,  and  went 
overboard  before  I  could  clutch  them.  On  he  went — 

"  Faster  and  faster  went, 
Faster  and  faster — " 

till,  just  as  I  was  about  laying  out  on  his  back  to  get 
him  by  the  head,  his  speed  slackened,  and  his  pace  be 
gan  to  resemble  that  of  a — wheelbarrow  following  a 
man — two  legs  before  and  but  one  rest  behind — or  a 
dog  lame  of  one  hind  leg — a  step  and  a  hop.  At  length 
he  stopped  short,  and  all  of  his  body  abaft  the  fore 

shoulders  began  to  reel  starboard    and  larboard,  short 
13 


146  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

and  quick,  like  a  boat  in  the  short  sea  in  the  wake  of  a 
steamboat's  wheels.  I  never  saw  a  horse  cut  such 
qualms  before,  and  never  hope  to  again. 

"  Oh,  d — n  the  baste  !  "  said  Dennis  ;  a  purty  dance 
he's  led  us,  to  be  sure  ;  but  he's  tired  of  pigin  wings, 
an  now  he's  takin  the  rockin*  step  !"  Here  Dennis 
knelt  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  chaise,  and  peeped 
over  the  dasher.  "  Oh  murdther,  Ben,  it's  no  wond- 
ther  he  stopped  ;  his  hawse  is  foul — there's  two  turns 
and  a  half  hitch  round  his  legs  wid  the  reins." 

At  this  moment  Aminadab  Sawyer  ran  up,  and  un 
dertook  to  seize  our  horse  by  the  bitts.  Bucephalus 
shook  his  head,  threw  up  his  heels — sent  a  piece  of  the 
dasher  flying  into  the  air,  taking  Dennis's  face  as  it  as 
cended — and  then  down  we  went,  Dennis  O'Dogherty, 
Benjamin  Fiferail,  horse,  chaise  and  all,  in  a  heap,  as 
the  devil  found  six  pence. 

The  crowd  who  gathered  about  us  soon  raised  the 
horse — Dennis  and  I  picked  ourselves  up  ;  and  the 
wreck  inspected,  two  shafts  and  the  dasher  carried 
away,  I  had  time  to  look  after  my  shipmate,  who  stood 
at  a  short  distance,  his  head  down,  and  operating  upon 
both  eyes  at  once,  with  his  hands.  "  My  God  !"  cried 
I,  as  I  looked  up  in  his  face,  "  how  much  are  you  hurt  ? 
Your  face  is  all  blood  and  dirt ;  are  your  teeth  knocked 
down  your  throat  ?" 

"  My  eye  !  my  eye  !" 

"  If  his  eye  is  injured,"  said  the  village  doctor,  bust 
ling  up,  "  immediate  and  skilful  treatment  is  neces 
sary — a — " 

"  Got  the  hoss  made  fast,"  said  Aminadab  :  "  guess 
you'd  better  walk  right  into  aour  house." 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  147 

And  accordingly  the  doctor  and  I  walked  Dennis 
into  Mrs  Sawyer's  best  room,  set  him  in  a  chair  in  the 
middle  of  it,  and  kept  out  all  but  twenty  of  the  crowd, 
which  number  were  admitted  to  assist.  At  each  of  the 
open  windows  were  three  tiers  of  heads,  piled  one  above 
another,  gaping  with  open  mouths  at  Dennis,  as  he  sat 
with  both  hands  up  as  at  first ;  or  responding  in  low 
groans,  and  such  cheering  prophecies  as  "  he'll  never 
see  again !"  or  "  he  won't  live  through  it !"  to  the  poor 
devil's  constant  exclamation,  "  Och,  murdther  !  my 
eye  !  my  eye  !" 

The  doctor  opened  his  case  of  instruments,  and 
spread  them  upon  the  table.  "  Mrs  Sawyer,  a  bowl  of 
water.  Injuries  to  the  eye  (here  he  raised  himself, 
and  assumed  a  declamatory  attitude,)  should  only  be 
approached  by  regular  physicians.  (An  awful  squint  at  a 
Thomsonian,  whose  head  hung  in  at  the  window.)  Now 
some  linen,  for  compresses  and  bandages,  if  you  please, 
Mrs  Sawyer.  If  the  Cornea  should  be  so  injured, 
(  '  hear !  hear !'  from  several,  and  '  how  does  he  know 
it's  the  corner?'  from  the  steam  doctor,)  if  the  Cornea 
should  be  injured,  and  the  Vitrous  Humor  have  es 
caped — " 

"  Och,  murdther  !  my  eye  !  my  eye  !" 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  my  friend ; — if  the  Vitrous 
Humor  have  escaped,  the  sight  is  gone,  and  the  Chrys- 
talline  Lens  will  have  dropped  so  as  to  appear  only  half 
visible  above  the  lower  lid,  or  at  one  corner.  (Wipes 
his  probe,  and  examines  the  eye  of  the  instrument.) 
In  that  case,  there  will  be  tremendous  pain  in  the  optic 
nerve,  extending  back  to  the  brain ; — does  your  head 
ache?  My  good  woman,  why  don't  you  prepare  the 
compresses  ?" 


148  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

"  Want  a  compass  ? — got  one  here  to  my  watch- 
chain,"  said  Aminadab. 

"  No,  no.  (Lays  down  probe  and  takes  up  scalpel.) 
It  may  be  a  mere  injury  of  the  lid,  and  it  will  only  be 
necessary  to  remove  a  bit  of  the  flesh,  (wipes  and  lays 
down  scalpel  and  takes  up  forceps,)  or  possibly  a  splin 
ter  may  have  entered  the  flesh,  or  possibly  the  Cornea, 
or—" 

"  My  eye  !  my  eye  !" 

"  We  will  first  treat  it  with  aqua  pura, — have  you  it 
here,  good  woman  ?" 

"  No,  but  I'll  send  'Minadab  right  to  the  'pothecaries, 
if  you'll  set  it  down." 

"  Send  him  to  the  pump — oh,  here  it  is,  all  ready. 
( '  Gorry,'  said  the  Steamite,  '  why  didn't  the  consumed 
fool  say  water,  an  done  with  it?')  Now  takedown 
your  hands,  Mr — eh — " 

"  O'Dogherty,"  said  I. 

"  Mr  O'Dogherty.     Take  away  your  hands." 

"  Och,  murdther  !  the  way  I'm  in  !" 

Dennis  had  kept  his  hands  tight  to  his  eyes  during 
the  whole  scene,  and  the  strength  of  two  or  three  of 
us  was  necessary  to  remove  them.  We  held  his  arms 
out  by  main  strength,  the  spectators  breathing  audibly 
the  while,  and  the  Steamite,  unable  longer  to  keep  him 
self  at  a  distance,  jumped  in  at  the  window,  and  took 
the  bowl  of  water  out  of  Mrs  Sawyer's  hands. 

The  doctor  wiped  the  face  just  under  the  eyes,  which 
Dennis  kept  closed  so  tight  that  his  head  trembled. 
Then  he  waited  to  see  if  there  was  a  flow  from  them, 
just  as  I  had  seen  Dennis  himself  wipe  a  quart  pot  sus 
pected  of  leaking.  There  was  no  fresh  flow,  not  even 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  149 

of  tears.     The  doctor  looked  disappointed,  but  the  dis 
ciple  of  Thomson  smiled  maliciously. 

"  Go  over  the  whole  face  wid  yer  swab,"  said  Den 
nis  ;  and  I  thought  I  began  to  see  something  like  a 
smile  in  his  face. 

The  washing  away  of  the  dust,  now  caked  on,  re 
vealed  two  slight  bruises,  one  on  the  nether  jaw,  the 
other  on  the  bridge  of  the  nose.  "  Bad  case,  I  guess, 
doctor,"  said  Steamite.  The  doctor  looked  more  aw 
fully  important. 

"  It  may  be  an  internal  injury  ;  regular  practition 
ers  never  are  in  haste  to  pronounce  a  patient  out  of 
danger." 

"  Guess  they  ain't,  faith  !"  said  Steamite.  There 
was  the  same  watching  the  corners  of  the  mouth  that 
the  eyes  had  undergone.  The  doctor  scratched  his 
head. 

"  Is  my  face  clane  now  ?"  said  Dennis. 

"  Yes  ;  and  if  you'll  open  your  eyes,  and  let  us  see — " 

"  Oh,  they've  done  smartin,  an  I'll  do  that  thing — " 
and  he  disengaged  his  hands,  sprung  to  his  feet,  placed 
his  arms  akimbo,  and  leered  into  the  two  doctors'  faces. 
"  Ain't  I  a  good  lookin  felly,  any  way  ?" 

"  Eh-em  !"  said  Steamy,  "  none  but  regular-bred 
physicians  should  approach  such  delicate  operations — 
so  I'm  off."  The  women  gazed  in  astonishment  that 
Dennis's  eyeballs  did  not  fall  out,  and  he  improved  the 
opportunity  thus  afforded,  to  take  an  accurate  survey 
of  all  their  faces.  The  doctor  disappeared,  and  the 
only  intelligence  direct  or  indirect  (he  did  not  send  his 
bill,)  that  I  ever  had  of  him  afterward,  was  from  see 
ing  the  village  watch-maker  straightening  the  probe 
which  was  bent  by  being  packed  in  a  hurry. 
13* 


150 


CORRECTED      PROOFS'. 


The  recovery  of  Dennis's  eye-sight  was  no  sooner 
announced,  and  the  guard  taken  from  the  door,  than 
there  was  a  rush  into  the  room  from  the  outside. 
"Where's  the  sailor  feller?"  "Is  his  eyes  good?" 
"  Where's  Dr  Bolus?"  "Why,  I  take  it,"  said  the 
Steamite,  "  Dr  Bolus  is  non  cst  invcntus  as  the  mineral 
doctors  say — he'll  be  scarce  hereabouts  for  a  while,  I 
reckon."  Here  he  led  off,  in  a  horse  laugh  at  the  dis 
comfiture  of  his  rival,  and  all  present  joined  in  the  cho 
rus.  Dennis  tried  in  vain  to  make  his  escape — a  little 
embarrassed,  at  first,  in  being  thus  lionized  in  spite  of 
himself.  Soon  recovering,  he  mounted  a  chair,  and 
made  demonstrations  of  an  intention  to  speak. 

"  Stan'  back,  men,"  said  he;  "  aisy  if  you  plaze — 
jist  gev  us  fair  play.  Now,  what'll  ye  be  afther,  ship 
mates  ?  Is  it  because  ye  niver  saw  a  man  before  ?  Oh, 
shame  on  yez  now — 'ud  ye  have  a  felly  kilt  first,  and 
smodthered  to  death  aftherward  ?" 

But,  like  Haydn's  undertaking  to  play  a  congrega 
tion  out  of  church,  the  more  Dennis  begged  them  to 
be  off,  the  more  and  more  they  crowded  up  to  him — 
and  the  crowd  increased  rather  than  diminished,  as  the 
news  was  on  the  fly,  that  a  sailor  had  both  eyes  kicked 
out  by  a  horse,  and  was  lying  at  the  point  of  death  at 
Mrs  Sawyer's,  attended  by  three  doctors  and  two  min 
isters.  The  broken  chaise  at  the  door  arrested  all  who 
had  by  any  chance  not  heard  the  news,  and  in  they 
turned  to  Mother  Sawyer's — all  charitably  bent  on  ren 
dering  the  assistance  usual  in  such  cases  of  bruises  or 
wounds- — viz.  finishing  the  sufferer,  by  shutting  off  all 
air  from  him.  It  began  to  be  uncomfortable. 

"  Benjie,"  said  Dennis,  in  a  whisper,  (I  stood  at  his 
elbow,)  "  how'll  I  scatther  'em  ?  We'll  be  screwed  here 


TAR      BRVSU     SKETCHES.  151 

direc'ly,  like  a  bale  iv  cotthon.  Ah!  I  have  it.  Misther 
Sawyer  !  (aloud)  Misther  Sawyer  !  If  ye're  near  the 
door,  jist  stip  down  cellar,  an  clap  a  shore  undher  the 
deck.  Be  aisy  jontlcmin,  the  floor  won't  fall  this  tree 
minnits — clap  up  two  shores,  Misther  Sawyer  !  Don't 
bodthcr  yersclves  bcin  in  a  hurry  now — Misther  Sawyer, 
pass  the  word  along  for  the  docthor  an  his  loblolly  b'ys 
— don't  be  flustlicrcd  now,  jontlcmin — there'll  be  broken 
bones  here  direc'ly — don't  be  frightened,  men,  don't  be 
goin  off  in  a  huff !  stop,  an  I'll  tell  ye  all  about  my 
wouns  an  bruises  !  Oh,  but  it's  no  use — divil  a  one'll 
stop  now  I  coax  'em  to,  but  whin  I  tould  'em  to  be  off', 
they  were  for  stayin  a  wake.  Och,  but  I'm  tired." 

"  How  are  your  eyes,  Dennis!" 

"  Nicely,  Benjamin ;  it's  a  bit  dust  was  in  'em." 

"  Why  the  deuce  didn't  you  say  so  1 " 

"  Bekase  I  tought  I'd  let  the  blundherin  fool  iv  a 
docthor  operate."  Here  Aminadab  entered. 

"  Well,  shipmates,  got  the  rack  o'  your  craft  inter 
dock." 

"Ye  have,  have  ye? — well,  Aminy,  jist  tell  us  how 
the  sax'n  is." 

"  Well  enough,!  guess,  why — aintgot  a  job  for  him?" 

"I'll  tell  ye,  me  darlin.  Whin  Benjie  here  asked  for 
ye  at  the  store,  they  tould  him  you  said  the  bell-rope 
'ad  carried  away  the  sax'n,  an — " 

"  Darned  fools  !  I  didn't — ony  said  the  bell-rope  might 
git  carried  away,  if  'twan't  overhauled.  Say,  mother, 
ha'n't  got  no  cold  grub  in  the  locker,  have  ye  I " 

"  Any  what?" 

"  Any  grub  in  the  closet?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me,  right  afore  strangers '{ 


152  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

Closets  swept  three  times  a  day,  and  washed  out  once 
a  week  !  '  Taint  likely  there's  grubs  in  'em — " 

"Oh  don't  get  into -a  puncheon,  mother — guess  a 
flour-barrel  would  hold  you — " 

"  Grubs  in  my  closet !  " 

"  Ony  want  somethin  to  eat — " 

"  Well,  ef  you  want  to  eat  grubs,  better  go  where 
you  can  find  'em — aint  none  here,  I  promus  you."  And 
out  of  the  room  she  bounced. 

While  the  old  lady  was  getting  over  her  pet  in  the 
kitchen,  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  a  gentle 
man,  inquiring  for  Mr  O'Dogherty,  was  shown  into  the 
room.  "  Mr  O'Dogherty  ?" 

"  Barrin  the  handle,  O'Dogherty  is  my  name — Den 
nis  O'Dogherty." 

The  visiter  took  a  piece  of  paper  from  his  hat,  looked 
in  Dennis's  face,  then  at  the  paper,  then  at  my  friend's 
arms,  and  again  at  the  paper.  "  Beg  your  pardon,  sir, 
you  can't  be  Mr  O'Dogherty, — a — " 

"  Is  it  my  name  ye'd  swear  me  out  iv  ?  " 

"  Why,  your  eyes  are  both  there !  " 

"  To  be  sure." 

"  Are  none  of  your  limbs  broken." 

"  Divil  a  one,  to  me  knowledge." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  not  internally  injured  ?  " 

"  I  can't  swear  to  that,  as  I  hav'n't  turned  meself 
inside  out." 

"  And  you  are  perfectly  well,  then  ?  " 

"  Divil  a  word  o'  lie  in  that — but  what'll  be  makin 
ye  look  so  sorry  about  it  1  Oho,  my  dear,  I  smoke  it — 
ye're  the  healt  officer,  an  'ud  like  to  know  wedther  to 
sind  us  to  quarantine  or  not — I'll  show  ye  I'm  sound 
direc'ly." 


TAR     BRUSH     SKETCHES.  153 

I  threw  myself  on  a  chair  in  an  agony  of  laughter, 
while  Dennis  fell  to  practising  some  of  the  strangest 
gymnastics  I  ever  witnessed.  He  beat  his  sides  with 
both  hands,  jumped  from  the  floor  to  a  chair,  and  back 
again,  and  twisted  himself  into  all  manner  of  shapes. 
"  An  now,"  said  he,  "  will  ye  gev  me  a  clane  bill  iv 
healt?  What  are  ye  laughin  at,  Ben?" 

"  What  have  you  been  kicking  about  in  this  style  for, 
Dennis? " 

"  I  niver  was  quarantined  but  once,  an  that  was  in 
the  ship  Mentor,,  and  the  docthor  made  me  knock  about 
jist  that  way." 

"But  he's  no  doctor — there's  no  quarantine  here, 
fifty  miles  in  the  bush  !  " 

"  Is  it  true  that  Ben  sis?" 

"  Oh  yes  sir,  that  is,  I'm  no  doctor." 

"  Well  thin,  bad  luck  to  yer  imperdence,  for  quizzin 
me  that  way — who  are  ye  at  all?" 

"  I'm  editor—" 

"  Edithur?" 

"  Yes,  of  the  Cedarville  Universal  Advertiser,  and 
hearing  of  your  accident,  was  anxious  to  obtain  a  cor 
rect  account,  for,  as  has  been  well  remarked,  a  lie  will 
travel  leagues,  sir,  while  truth  is  putting  on  his  boots, 
and  I  always  like  to  be  careful  not  to  abuse  the  public 
mind — publish  a  large  weekly  impression,  and  daily  in 
creasing — " 

"  What  does  all  this  mane  ?" 

"  He's  a  printer,  Dennis, — prints  a  newspaper." 

"  Well,  thin,  he's  a  right,  no  doubt,  to  ivery  body's 
business.  Jist  say  in  your  next  paper,  that  I'm  kilt 
entirely.  Now  be  off  wid  verself," 


154  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

During  all  this  conversation  there  had  been  a  con 
stant  passing  under  the  windows.  "  Never,"  as  the  editor 
would  say,  "  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant" 
had  the  excitement  been  paralleled,  of  which  Widow 
Sawyer's  house  was  now  the  focus.  I  noticed  one  man 
who  passed  and  repassed  fourteen  times,  looking  into 
the  window,  each  way.  At  length  Mrs  Sawyer  called 
us  into  the  kitchen,  where  she  had  provided,  better  than 
the  "  cold  grub  "  Aminadab  bespoke. 

"  Tried  to  coax  the  old  lady  to  make  some  lob-skous," 
said  Aminadab,  "  but  she  wouldn't,  nor  tech  to.  Don't 
know  whether  you  can  eat  this,  or  not." 

"  Wait  a  bit,  Aminy,  an  afther  supper,  we'll  tell  ye." 

A  tap  at  the  door.  The  conversation  was  audible 
where  we  sat, 

"Won't  want  a  watcher  to  night,  Miss  Sawyer?  I 
heerd  the  sailor  man  was  out  of  his  head,  an  took  three 
men  to  hold  him." 

Dennis's  lower  jaw  fell. 

"  Oh  no,  Mr  Hough,  he's  quite  well." 

"  Got  a  lewcid  interval,  hey?  He'll  be  tearin  mad, 
when  he  comes  tew." 

."Will  he,  by   J s!     Thin  it's  yer  own  d d 

imperdint  tongue  he'll  tear  out!  " 

Jeroboam  Hough,  Selectman  of  Cedarville,  did  not 
wait  to  see  how  Dennis  looked  in  a  passion.  "  What 
kind  of  a  bloody  plaish  is  this  at  all  ?  "  said  Dennis,  as 
he  came  back  from  the  door.  "  First  they're  for  pick- 
in  out  a  felly's  eyes,  thin  for  puttin  him  in  the  paper, 
thin  for  puttin  him  in  the  mad-'us  !  Oh,  to  the  divil 
I  pitch  Sayderville,  an  all  that  belongs  till  it !  " 

"  Be  calm,  Dennis,  be  calm.  The  doctor  was  moved 
by  kindness  for  you — " 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  155 

"  So  is  the  ould  aigle,  that  picks  out  yer  eyes  for  her 
young,  Benjie." 

"  Then  the  newspaper-man  hasn't  had  a  chance  for 
a  paragraph  before,  for  a  year,  and — " 

"  Oh,  yes  he  has,"  interrupted  Aminadab.  "  Guess 
Mr  Pimento's  barn  burnin  down  last  night  '11  give  him 
a  chance  for  a  pretty  middlin  long  story.  They  do  say 
'twas  sot  a-fire." 

"  A  jintleman,  the  felly  that  did  it.  I  like  that,  but 
it's  betther  it  'ud  plazed  me,  if  it  'ad  burned  down  the 
whole  parish — a  divil's  den  as  it  is.  We'll  look  to  that 
barn  afther  supper,  Benjie,  an  return  thanks  over  it." 

Mother  Sawyer  rolled  up  her  eyes  in  astonishment. 
The  "  tea-things  were  not  cleared  away  "  before  all  the 
male  and  female  gossips  in  Cedarville  were  in  posses 
sion  of  Dennis's  table-talk,  with  notes  explanatory  and 
additional. 

*  *  *  *  #  # 

"  This  here  court  stands  'journed  over  to  the  vestry 
of  the  meetin'us." 

"  To  what  time,  your  honor?" 

"  Oh,  right  away — havn't  room  enough  here,  an  all 
my  blanks  says  to  my  dwellin  house,  so  I  ony  sot  here 
to  adjourn."  Dennis  and  myself  were  walked  to  the 
vestry,  in  charge  of  one  constable,  two  or  three  specials, 
and  the  posse,  and  placed  in  the  elder's  seats,  which, 
for  the  time,  were  made  the  bar.  We  had  been  called 
up  at  daylight,  and  arrested,  the  same  officer  serving 
subpoenas  on  Mrs  Sawyer  and  her  son.  Jeroboam 
Hough,  who,  in  addition  to  being  a  slackman,  wrote 
himself  "  Gustus  Pease,"  read  the  complaint,  setting 
forth  that  "  Benjamin  Fiferail  and  Dennis  O'Dogherty, 
mariners,  did,  on  the  night  of  the  20th  instant,  against 


156  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

the  peace  of  God  and  the  Commonwealth,  wantonly, 
maliciously  and  with  evil  intent,  with  fire  and  combus 
tibles,  set  fire  to,  and  cause  to  burn,  the  barn  known  as 
Mr  Reuben  Pimento's,  to  the  great  danger  of  the  good 
people  of  the  commonwealth,  and  against  the  statute  in 
such  cases  made  and  provided ;"  or  other  \vords  to  that 
amount,  which  I  do  not  pretend  to  remember  accurately. 

"  Now,  prisoners,  hold  up  your  right  hands — you 
severally  and  solemnly — " 

"  May  it  please  the  honorable  Court,  I  believe  it  isn't 
usual  to  swear  the  defendants,"  said  Squire  Jones,  half 
rising. 

"  I  ha'n't  examined  the  'thorities,  but  I  thought  in  a 

*  O 

case  like  this — " 

"  It  is  contrary  to  all  usage,  sir,  and — " 

"  The  Court  won't  submit  to  be  ruled  by  its  attor- 
nies — " 

"  I  was  not  aware,  sir,  that  petty  Justices — " 

"  I'll  commit  you,  sir,  for  contempt  !" 

Jones  looked  up  a  moment  astonished — then  a  smile 
took  possession  of  his  features,  such  a  smile  as  Pygma 
lion  might  have  sported,  if  Pandora  had  proved  a  fool 
instead  of  the  bewitching  creature  she  turned  out — 
or,  to  come  down  into  plain  English,  he  looked  as  a 
master  shipwright  might,  who  should,  upon  launching 
his  craft,  perceive  she  had  a  heel.  The  Justice's 
commission  was  obtained  for  him,  by  and  through 
Jones's  exertions  and  influence,  and  there  was  no  little 
shame  mingled  with  the  anger  he  felt,  at  the  stupidity 
of  the  magistrate  of  his  own  creation. 

The  justice  decided  to  waive  the  ceremony  of  swear 
ing  us,  and  proceeded,  after  swearing,  to  examine  the 
witnesses,  the  first  two  or  three  of  whom  testified  with 


TAR      BRUSH      SKETCHES.  157 

much  hesitation  and  solemnity,  that  the  prisoners  came 
into  town  in  a  chaise  the  day  before !  Mother  Sawyer 
followed  their  testimony  with  a  relation  of  Dennis's 
conversation  at  the  table,  with  some  original  additions, 
and  the  whole  was  wound  up  with  the  damning  evi 
dence,  that  we  certainly  were  on  or  about  the  spot,  on 
the  night  after  the  fire.  Dennis  and  I  could  hardly 
keep  our  countenances  during  the  farce — he  indeed 
did  not,  or  his  tongue  either,  but  continually  interrupted 
the  proceedings  with  such  exclamations  as — "  a  tund- 
herin  lie  !"  "  Is  it  fools  ye  all  are  ?"  "  Oh,  murdther  !" 
— but  we  declined  putting  any  questions  to  the  wit 
nesses.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  testimony,  Mr  Jones 
inquired,  in  an  under-tone,  of  Dennis,  "  can't  you  prove 
an  alibi  ?" 

"To  be  sure  I  can  prove  it  a  lie,  ivery  word  iv  it!" 

"  But  can't  you  show  where  you  was  on  the  night  of 
the  fire?" 

"  Faith  an  I  can,  the  very  house,  if  any  body  wil. 
go  there  wid  me." 

"  No,  no  !  you  don't  understand — can't  you  bring 
witnesses  here  to  prove  you  were  not  in  Cedarville?" 

"  Benjie,  here  a  bit," — and  he  whispered. 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  I ;  "  don't  bring  her  here.  There's 
no  need  of  it." 

"  Harkee — is  it  a  lawyer  ye  are?" 

"Yes." 

"  Divil  a  friend  have  I  but  that — an  as  far  as  that 
goes,  wid  his  brodther,  if  ye  like  the  family — " 

"  And  that,"  said  I,  following  suit  with  another  rag. 

"  May  it  please  the  honorable  Court,"  said  Jones, 
thrusting  his  hand  in  his  vest  pocket  as  he  jumped  up — 

"Are  you  for  the  Commonwealth  or  the  criminals?" 
14 


158  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

"  I  am  for  the  defendants,  sir — " 

"  Well,  didn't  know  how  you  was  gwine  to  jump." 

"  The  law.  sir,  calls  no  man  a  criminal  till  his  guilt 

3  }  D 

is  proved  ;  and  I  am  confident,  sir,  of  the  innocence 
of  my  clients,  sir,"  and  away  he  went,  thrashing  the 
witnesses  like  mad,  ripping  up  their  evidence,  and 
poking  sundry  dry  thrusts  at  the  justice.  Our  battery 
had  touched  his  pocket  nerve.  But  it  all  availed  noth 
ing — Justice  Hough  placed  his  fore-finger  on  his  nose — 
"  guilt  wa'n't  proved,  nor  innocence  nyther — responsi 
bility  of  a  magistrate — higher  court — recognisance — " 

"  So  you  bind  them  over,  do  you?" 

"Yes— eh— " 

11  You  a  Justice  ? — a  d — d  stupid  fool !"  And  Jones 
slapped  his  volume  of  Reports  down  on  the  table  with 
a  will  that  added  a  report  to  the  volume  of  documents, 
more  like  that  of  a  six-pounder,  than  a  "  Commonwealth 
vs. ." 

"  Yes,  in  the  several  sums — " 

"Will  your  honor  suspend  proceedings  a  moment?  " 

An  animated  sotto  voce  conversation  between  the  sprig 
of  law  and  the  withered  branch  of  justice,  was  followed 
by  the  annunciation  from  the  bench,  that,  no  sufficient 
proof  having  been  found  against  us,  we  were  discharged 
without  bail !  Knowing,  from  circumstances,  the  relative 
position  of  magistrate  and  attorney,  this  sudden  turn  did 
not  surprise  me  at  all — and  the  villagers,  good  honest 
souls,  only  thought  that  the  attorney  had  made  the  case 
clearer  to  his  honor. 

"  Is  it  all  through  now?" 

"  Yes." 

"  An  Benjie,  is  the  vahecle  at  the  door  ?  " 

"Yes." 


TAR     BRUSH      SKETCHES.  159 

"  We  are  innoshent,  you  say?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sartinly." 

"Well,  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  yerself — ye 
bloody  ould  Turk,  an  wayfarin  tief  an  highwayman ! 
Ar'n't  ye  ashamed  o'  yerself,  to  bodther  a  dacint  man 
this  way  1  May  the  sharks  get  yer  dirty  body,  an  the 
divil  yer  sowl ! — that's  my  blessin.  Good  afthernoon, 
Misther  Sawyer,  an  if  I  throuble  yer  town  agen,  cut 
me  up  for  junk,  an  lay  me  up  in  tumb-line.  I'll  stay 
at  home,  an  get  dhrunk  wid  Bill  British  first." 

Paying  for  the  repairs  of  our  chaise,  we  rode  off — 
leaving  the  lawyer  and  justice  in  a  consultation,  wheth 
er  Dennis  could  be  arrested  for  contempt  of  court,  in 
insulting  the  magistrate  after  the  court  had  adjourned, 
and  whether,  in  case  of  the  illegality  of  that  measure, 
an  action  for  assault  could  not  be  made  to  lie. 


160  CORRECTED     PROOFS, 


A    LAMENT. 

RESPECTFULLY       DEDICATED     TO     THE     WRITERS   A  ND> 
READERS    OF     "SONNETS,"    "LINES,"    ETC. 

I. 

In  memory  enshrined 

PAULINA,  still  thou  art ; 
For  thee,  a  nameless  fluttering 

Bedevils  my  poor  heart — 
At  the  mention  of  thy  name, 

I  think  I'm  with  thee  still, 
Till  the  monster,  cold  Reality 

Throws  o'er  my  dreams  a  chilL 

II. 

Alas  !  that  there  should  be 

Such  a  cruel  thing  as  space  I 
And  twice  alas  !  that  it  should  find 

'  Twixt  you  and  me  a  place, 
A  continent  in  length, 

And  as  the  sea  profound  ! 
E'en  as  the  waters  of  that  sea, 

My  tears  for  thee  abound  ! 

III. 

Alas  !  that  Father  Time 

Is  always  in  such  haste—- 
He  would  not  wait  for  you  and  me, 

But  like  the  devil  raced  ! 
Says  he,  "the  time  has  come 

PAULINE  and  you  must  part !  " 
Says  I,  "  we  must !  "  and  oh  !  it  went 

111  nigh  to  break  my  heart ! 


A      LAMENT.  101 

IV. 

In  ancient  Lima,  where 

The  River  Rimac  flows  ; 
Where  the  turkey-buzzard  lives  on  what 

PAULINE  to  the  gutter  throws  ; 
Where  the  palace  and  the  church 

Are  glittering  in  gold — 
My  heart's  ador-ed  kept  a  bar, 

And  agua  diente  sold. 

V. 

The  compound  that  I  taught 

Her  fairy  hands  to  make, 
From  any  other  hands  than  hers 

Alas  !  I  cannot  take  ! 
No  !  punch  no  more  for  me  ! 

Ah  rather  let  me  freeze, 
Than  warm  with  glass  for  which  her  hands 

Did  not  the  lemons  squeeze  ! 

VI. 

I've  come  to  the  intent, 

In  agony  of  soul, 
Forthwith  to  let  the  Temp'rance  folks 

My  name  as  theirs  enrol. 
Spirit  of  sweet  PAULINE, 

As  thou  dost  o'er  me  hover, 
Be  witness  that  no  punch  but  thine, 

Is  tasted  by  thy  lover. 


14* 


CORRECTED        PROOFS. 


DIRECTIONS 

TO   ENABLE  A  MAN  TO   PRACTISE  MEDICINE 
SUCCESSFULLY. 

A  FAIR  understanding  of  the  end  to  be  gained  by  a  di 
rection,  is  always  to  be  attained  before  it  is  followed. 
To  an  unenlightened  man,  one  upon  whom  no  corner 
of  the  mantle  of  Hygeia  has  fallen,  the  object  of  this 
essay  may  seem,  at  first  sight,  obvious  enough — "  to 
teach  the  successful  practice  of  medicine."  But  the 
candidate  for  the  honors  of  the  lancet  and  gallipot, 
should  learn  that  successful  practice,  as  applied  to  the 
doctor  and  to  the  patient,  has  two  widely  different  ac 
ceptations.  With  the  patient,  it  means  successful  de 
liverance  from  such  portion  of  the  "  ills  which  flesh  is 
heir  to,"  as  may  afflict  him — with  the  doctor,  it  means 
a  successful  removal  of  the  deposites,  from  the  purse 
of  the  unfortunate  wight  whose  lot  it  is  to  be  bled  by 
him,  to  his  own  pocket.  With  the  patient  we  have  not 
to  do,  but,  consigning  him  to  the  students  of  our  school, 
with  a  hope  that  he  is  blessed  with  a  constitution  fit  to 
repel  the  effects  of  all  the  contents  of  Pandora's  box — 
to  the  would-be  doctor  we  address  ourself. 

If  you  have  been  unfortunate  enough  to  get  an  ac 
quaintance  with  the  classics,  or  as  much  as  a  smattering 
of  Latin,  conceal  it.  Abjure  all  knowledge  of  such 
heathenish  palaver,  and  do  not,  as  you  value  your  pros 
pect  of  success,  presume  to  utter  a  word  of  it.  You 
might  as  well  talk  treason,  or  preach  heresy,  as  quote 


DIRECTIONS,      ETC.  163 

Latin.     It  is  a  vile  language,  fit  only  for  book-doctors 
and  mineral  prescribers. 

Contrive  in  some  way  to  shock  the  good  sense  of  the 
regular  faculty,  and  get  denounced  as  a  quack.  Such 
disapproval  is  a  sure  passport  to  fame.  If  you  can  make 
it  appear  that  you  are  persecuted,  sick  people  will  call 
upon  you  from  sympathy. 

Never  be  tender  about  interfering  with  another  phy 
sician's  practice.  Nobody  observes  such  matters  of 
punctilio  but  the  regular  faculty,  from  whom  you  must 
be  as  dissimilar  as  possible.  Use  no  minerals — or,  if 
you  should,  swear  that  all  the  articles  in  your  Materia 
Med — tut !  we  are  breaking  our  own  rule — all  your 
doctor's  stuffs,  we  mean,  are  herbs,  notwithstanding. 
When  you  are  called  in  to  another's  patient,  condemn 
his  practice,  at  all  events.  If  you  should  find  a  pre 
scription  in  the  room,  roll  up  your  eyes,  and  wonder, 
aloud,  that  what  the  patient  has  already  taken  of  such 
p'ison,  has  not  killed  him  !  If  it  should  be  "  Syrup 
Scilla?,"  swear  it  is  a  mineral,  throw  it  out  at  the 
window,  and  administer  a  dose  of  Squills.  So  in  other 
cases. 

Profess  "  Natural  Knowledge  "  of  medicine.  You 
will  thus  gain,  on  the  part  of  your  victims,  the  reputa 
tion  of  having  taken  the  art  the  natural  way,  and  as  an 
epidemic  thusta^en  is  more  virulent  than  when  given 
by  vaccination,  you  will  be  deemed  the  more  skilful 
physician.  If  the  faculty  denounce  you  as  a  natural, 
so  much  the  better. 

If  you  ride,  drive  as  if  fleeing  the  gallows.  If  you 
walk,  stride  over  the  ground,  like  Peter  Schernil  in  his 
seven  league  boots.  "  Haste  makes  waste  "  of  nothing 
but  your  patients'  health  and  dollars. 


164  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

Never"  cite  medical  books  as  authority.  If  you  wish 
to  appeal  to  precedent,  or  to  electrify  a  nurse  with  your 
wisdom,  relate  cases  in  your  previous  practice.  You 
may  do  this  the  first  week. 

Advertise  largely.  This  answers  a  double  purpose. 
To  the  printer  it  is  hush-money,  preventing  an  exposure 
of  your  quackery.  The  gullible  part  of  the  public  swal 
low  your  advertisements  even  easier  than  your  medicines 
— the  former  cost  them  nothing. 

If  a  patient  should  happen  to  survive  your  treatment, 
get  a  certificate  of  a  cure  from  him,  with  leave  to  use 
it.  If  poor,  charge  him  nothing,  if  wealthy,  be  very 
reasonable.  You  will  not  often  be  called  upon  to  exhibit 
.such  generosity,  and  the  estates  of  those  who  unfortu 
nately  die  under  your  hands,  will  make  you  amends. 
Dead  men  dispute  no  charges. 

Lay  all  deaths  at  the  door  of  the  mineral  doctors. 
This  you  can  generally  do  with  safety,  as  most  of  your 
calls  will  be  to  give  the  coup  de  grace  to  those  who  dis 
miss  a  regular  practitioner  to  call  you  in.  If  you  have 
charge  of  the  patient  from  the  beginning,  to  the  end 
which  will  usually  follow  your  practice,  give  out  that 
his  blood  was  as  full  of  minerals  as  a  geologist's  cabinet, 
when  you  first  saw  him.  Say  that  his  death  is  the  effect 
of  medicine  administered  in  former  fits  of  illness. 

If  your  advertisements,  certificates,  etc.  make  a  large 
bill,  persuade  the  printer  he  is  sick,  as  he  will  be,  un 
doubtedly,  before  you  have  done  with  him,  and  induce 
him  to  take  his  pay  in  nostrums. 

Don't  forget  to  caress  children — "  children  govern 
mothers,  and  mothers  fathers."  Carry  your  pockets 
full  of  confectionary,  and  make  every  mother's  booby 
son  and  daughter  your  favorites. 


MY    FRIEND'S    STORY.  165 


MY    FRIEND'S    STORY. 

A  FRIEND  of  mine,  a  foreigner,  one  of  the  better  order 
of  Refugees,  who  fled  to  this  country  to  avoid  political 
persecution,  has  often  entertained  me  with  accounts  of 
his  hair-breadth  escapes.  Political  persecution  in  his 
case  was  no  joke — no  reform  out  of  office,  or  loss  of 
patronage  on  account  of  political  opinions.  A  price 
was  set  on  his  head,  a  reward  offered  for  him  as  a  traitor. 
After  foiling  his  pursuers  for  many  months,  seeking 
concealment  in  the  dens  and  holes  of  the  earth,  he  was 
fortunate  enough  to  get  on  board  an  American  vessel. 
While  there  concealed,  he  had  the  inexpressible  grati 
fication  of  looking  from  his  hiding  place  upon  the 
movements  of  a  file  of  soldiers  who  had  traced  him. 
He  saw  them  pass  their  swords  under  the  bed-clothing 
in  the  berths,  into  all  visible  cracks  and  openings — in  a 
word,  into  every  possible  hiding-place,  except  that  in 
which  he  happened  to  be  !  Providentially,  he  escaped, 
and  our  business  with  him  is  after  his  arrival  at  New 
York — a  part  of  his  life,  the  history  of  which  has  less  of 
thrilling  interest,  than  that  of  fleeing  before  files  of  sol 
diers — but  his  suffering  was  perhaps  quite  as  intense  in 
New  York,  as  on  the  Island  of  Cuba.  A  hereditary 
gentleman,  he  was  unused  to  labor — of  handsome  prop 
erty,  he  had,  indeed,  been  educated  to  consider  occu 
pation  with  a  view  to  the  acquisition  of  money,  beneath 
him  ;  and,  of  high  and  honorable  feelings,  the  petty 
tricks  and  expedients  of  those  who  live  by  their  wits, 
he  had  the  utmost  disgust  for — he  was  incapable  of  them. 


166  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

"  When  I  arrived  at  New  York,"  said  he,  "having 
no  acquaintance  with  your  language,  except  a  slight 
smattering  picked  up  on  the  passage,  I  let  the  porters 
and  hackrnen  do  with  me  as  they  pleased.  I  was  sent 

to  the  Hotel,  and  following  my  baggage  to  my 

room,  took  out  and  sealed  my  letters — they  were  sealed 

to  me,  before ; — wrote  " Hotel,"  under  my  name 

on  the  direction,  and  sent  them  to  the  post.  My  friends 
in  Matanzas  had  assured  me  they  contained  all  that 
was  necessary,  credit  and  introduction.  I  dined  on  the 
first  day  alone,  not  caring  to  sit  down  at  the  table  with 
strangers.  The  dinner  was  well — the  wine,  its  name 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  never,  I'll  be  sworn, 
never  saw  the  "  sunny  realms  of  France."  Dinner  fin 
ished,  I  examined  my  funds,  and  found  myself  the  pos 
sessor  of  ten  Spanish  dollars  and  five  rials  in  cash;  but 
the  empty  state  of  my  treasury  gave  me  no  uneasiness, 
as  I  had  been  assured  by  my  friend  that  ample  provision 
was  made  for  me.  On  the  morrow,  in  answer  to  my 
letters,  I  received  two  notes  of  invitation  (I  never  heeded 
them)  and  a  call  from  Mr  R ,  an  American  gentle 
man,  whose  kindness  to  me  I  shall  never  forget.  He 
was  a  perfect  master  of  my  native  language,  and  his 
two  daughters,  as  I  afterward  found,  were  also  well 
acquainted  with  it. 

"  He  spent  an  hour  with  me,  listened  to  my  history, 
expressed  sincere  commiseration  for  my  misfortunes, 
and  offered  me  his  house.  This,  with  many  thanks,  I 
declined.  He  then  advised  me  to  change  my  quarters 
to  a  private  boarding-house,  and  offered  me  an  immediate 
introduction  to  one.  He  rang  for  my  bill,  and  after  pay 
ing  it,  I  had  remaining  only  three  dollars,  of  my  ten. 


MY    FRIEND'S    STORY.  167 

"  At  my  new  place  I  found  a  countryman,  and  though 
overjoyed  at  the  opportunity  of  conversing,  my  pleasure 
was  not  a  little  dashed  by  the  factj  that  whoever  had 
received  my  letter  of  credit  had  not  yet  notified  me  of 
his  acceptance,  and  I  began  to  fear  a  mistake,  or  a  mis 
carriage.  Days  passed — and  I  heard  nothing,  and  was, 
beside,  almost  starved!  Not  that  there  was  deficiency 
in  my  landlady's  provision — that  was  abundant — but 
the  courses  followed  each  other  so  rapidly,  that  I  had 
bare  time  to  taste  them,  and  hardly  thai'.,  as  meal-times 
were  almost  my  only  opportunities  of  meefiug  my  coun 
tryman.  The  end  of  lite  dinner  hnlf-hour,  it  is  an  error 
to  call  it  an  hour,  invariably  found  me  alone  at  the  table, 
hungry  as  when  I  sat  down  ;  but  compelled  lo  leave  it, 
or  see  i<  spirited  away  from  before  me,  as  the  viands 
disappeared  from  beneath  the  nose  of  Sancho  Panza. 

"  Weeks  passed,  and  Winter  approached — or  what 
to  me  was  Winter,  the  last  bleak  months  of  Autumn. 

Mr  R continued  his  visits,  (he  others  to  whom  I  had 

sent  letters,  seemed  to  think  their  duty  done,  when  they 
had  answered  them.  Perhaps  my  failure  to  return  their 
calls,  or  answer  their  invitations,  did  exonerate  them, 

according  to  the  code  of  strict  politeness.     Mr  R 

was  above  politeness. 

"  '  My  dear  P ,'  said  he  one  morning,  '  you  need 

a  cloak.' 

"  '  Oh  no,  I  can  do  very  well  without.'  A  fit  of  shiv 
ering  gave  me  the  lie  in  my  teeth,  as  I  said  it. 

"  '  But  you  are  unused  to  the  climate,  and  when  you 
go  out,  must  positively  be  uncomfortable.  Permit  me 
to  send  my  tailor  to  you?  ' 

"  '  No  sir — you  are  very  kind,  but  must  allow  ine 


168  CORRECTED     PROOFS: 

te  be  master  of  my  own  wardrobe.  I  do  not  need  any 
article  of  clothing  at  present.' 

"  He  looked  at  me  astonisbed — he  did  not  know  that 
I  had  but  a  dollar  and  a  half,  cash,  in  the  world.  In 
the  evening,  my  countryman  and  fellow  boarder  attacked 
me.  '  Take  a  turn  with  me  to-morrow,  and  make  some 
purchases.  I  will  be  your  interpreter.'  I  thanked  him, 
but  declined.  '  Then  let  me  send  you  a  boot-maker.' 
'No.'  (My  shoes  were  undressed  deer-skin,  white.) 
'  Let  me  at  least  send  up  the  tailor's  lad  for  orders — 
you  need  hose.'  'No.'  (Mine  were  white  silk.)  He 
hesitated  a  few  moments,  as  if  he  had  something  which 

he  wished  to  say,  but  dared  not.     '  P ,  countrymen 

should  not  be  strangers  to  each  other  in  a  strange  land.' 
I  understood  him  perfectly,  but  looked  all  innocent  of 
comprehending  his  drift.  '  If — if — if  you  have  need, 
iny  purse  is  at  your  service.'  I  thanked  him,  but  de 
nied  my  need  so  haughtily,  that  he  never  renewed  his 
tenders  of  service  of  that  description.  I  felt  mortified 
— mortified  that  I  had  been  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
prevarication,  and  upon  so  sore  a  subject.  I  saw,  beside, 
that  he  did  not  half  believe  me. 

"  My  situation  became  daily  more  unpleasant,  and 
many  and  ridiculous  were  the  expedients  to  which  I  was 
reduced,  to  escape  freezing.  I  wore  three  pairs  of  silk 
hose,  one  over  another,  and  other  warm  climate  habila- 
tnents  in  like  proportion.  I  shaved  myself,  trimmed  my 
own  hair,  and  stuck  to  my  room — afraid  to  meet  the 
landlady.  The  servant  brought  me  my  food,  and  I  have 
since  found  that  I  was  designated,  from  landlady  to 
boot-black,  as  the  crazy  foreign  gentleman.  I  icas  crazy. 
Where  was  the  money  to  come  from,  to  pay  my  board  ? 
And  why  was  not  the  bill  presented  1  I  wrote  to  my 


MY    FRIEND'S    STORY.  169 

correspondent  at  Matanzas,  complaining  in  no  gentle 
terms  of  his  neglect — put  the  residue  of  the  ink  on  my 
shoes,  buttoned  my  light  coat  up  to  my  chin,  and  pre 
pared  to  sally  out  and  find  conveyance  for  my  letter. 
Some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  '  She  has  brought  my 
bill  !  '  said  I,  and  screwed  my  face  down  to  what  it  had 
never  worn  before — a  begging  expression.  The  door 

opened — it  was  Mr  R .     He  took  a  bundle  from  a 

boy  who  followed,  and  dismissed  him. 

"  *  Good  morning,  Senor  P .     As  your  friend,  and 

as  the  friend  of  the  gentleman  from  whom  you  came 
recommended  to  me,  I  feel  the  interest  of  a  father  for 
you,  and  shall  assume  a  father's  authority.  I  insist  upon 
your  making  use  of  the  clothing  I  have  here  ordered 
for  you.  If  you  do  not,  I  shall  attribute  your  refusal  to 
mean  economy,  a  trait  unusual  in  your  countrymen. 
As  you  value  ray  friendship,  act.' 

"  What  could  I  do  ?  Refuse  without  assigning  a  rea 
son,  and  forfeit  Mr  R 's  friendship  ?  Assign  the 

true  reason,  and  mortify  my  pride  ?  Accept,  and  trust 
to  Providence  for  an  escape  from  the  dilemma  ?  '  Where 
— is — the — bill?'  I  stammered. 

" '  Never  mind  the  bill,  till  you  return.  I  come  to 
invite  you  to  spend  two  or  three  weeks  with  my  wife  and 
daughters  in  the  country.  I  will  not  take  no  for  an  an 
swer  ;  you  have  been  hardly  civil  to  them,  and  must  go 
out.  Come,  prepare,  my  coach  waits  for  you.' 

"  In  a  few  moments,  I  joined  him  at  the  door.  As 
I  passed  down  the  hall,  I  hid  my  face  in  the  ample  folds 
of  my  new  cloak,  expecting,  at  every  step,  that  my  land 
lady  would  thrust  her  bill  into  my  hand.  The  coach 
gained,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  obtained  a  reprieve  from  exe 
cution.  How  guilty  a  poor  devil  is,  without  a  dollar  in 
15 


170  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

the  world  !  I  said  I  felt  like  a  reprieved  criminal.  I 
felt  much  worse.  He  may  hope  for  ultimate  pardon — I 
was  sure  of  ultimate  punishment.  Did  I  not  deserve 

it  ?     I  was  deceiving  my  generous  friend  R .     He 

was  responsible  for  the  goods  he  had  ordered  for  me — 
a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars ;  for  my  board,  as  much 
more — for  he  had  introduced  me,  and  I  had  not  a  dollar 
in  the  world !  I  had  half  a  mind  to  confess  all,  and 
throw  myself  upon  his  mercy,  but  he  did  not  give  me 
time.  During  the  ride  he  talked  incessantly,  alternately 
chiding  me  for  my  despondency,  and  trying  to  reason 
me  into  spirits.  The  very  means  he  took  to  relieve  my 
depression  increased  it.  I  was  affected  to  tears. 

"  Arrived  at  his  country-seat,  I  found  his  intelligent 
wife  and  accomplished  daughters,  all  that  he  had  prom 
ised.  I  verily  believe  their  stay  at  the  country-seat  was 
protracted  solely  for  my  comfort,  as  I  had  repeatedly, 
civilly,  but  positively  declined  calling  at  their  house  in 
town.  For  a  time,  they  did  beguile  me  of  my  unpleas 
ant  feelings — till  they  became  acquainted  and  familiar. 
Their  thoughtless  rallying  then  caused  me  many  a  pang 
— many  a  sally  intended  for  a  joke  was  as  bitter  to  me, 
as  the  stones  to  the  frogs.  I  have  forgiven  the  gypsies 
long  since — but  I  can  never  forget  them.  At  length, 
upon  a  day,  I  was  completely  cornered.  Albert,  their 
brother,  came  up  from  the  city,  and  the  girls  arranged  a 

ride.     Mrs  R and  daughters  were  to  take  the  coach 

— Albert  and  I  were  appointed  outriders.  '  But  you 
forget,'  said  he,  '  that  the  only  horses  here  that  are  fit 
for  the  saddle,  you  take  for  the  coach.' 

"  '  And  you  forget,  brother  of  ours,  that  you  have 
declared,  times  without  number,  that  you  never  would 
back  one  of  mother's  span  of  deacons.  Nay,  nay,  you 


MY      FRIENDS      STORY.  171 

must  provide  your  own  steeds — you  know  you  are  a  sad 
boor,  and  our  friend  shall  teach  you  to  ride.' 

"  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the  plan  from  what  I  understood 
of  the  conversation,  and  one  of  the  sisters  explained  it 

all  to  me.     '  You,  Senor  P ,  fresh  from  the  land  of 

•chivalry  and  romance,  must  make  a  cavalier  of  Albert.' 
I  was  thunderstruck — and  '  looked  it  well '  too,  I  sup 
pose,  for  she  continued,  '  What !  so  blank  !  sure  never 
gallant  knight  before  received  token  of  a  lady's  favor 
so  thanklessly.' 

"  '  I  should  be  happy  indeed,  to  be  of  your  party,  but 
must  go  to  the  city  upon  business.' 

"  '  Indeed,  that  is  the  first  we  have  heard  of  it.  But 
we  will  have  the  ride  notwithstanding.  We  will  go  to 
day.' 

"  '  I  am  very  sorry,  very,  but  I  must  to  New  York  to 
day.' 

"  '  Ah,  you  are  worse  than  Albert — still,  I  will  arrange 
it.  Our  ride  shall  be  to  the  ferry,  and  when  we  return, 
we  will  send  a  servant  for  your  horse.' 

"  '  No,  no,  ladies,  you  must  excuse  me — ' 

"  '  Must ! ' 

"  '  Yes — I  prefer — that  is — I  was  directed — I  must 
walk!.1 

"  '  Must  walk!  Well  I  do  believe,  Senor  P ,  you 

are  a  strange  man.  Won't  you  ride  if  I  will  pay  the 
shilling?  Take  the  omnibus,  if  you  are  determined  not 
to  be  gallant.  Why,  one  would  think  you  were  a  dys 
peptic,  or  a  Palmer  from  Holy  Land,  and  under  a  vow 
to  travel  with  scrip  and  staff,  or  a  wandering  beggar. 
Do  shut  your  eyes,  and  let  me  give  you  Ponto  for  a  guide, 
with  a  string  to  his  neck.' 

"  I  bolted  from  the  house,  reached  the  ferry  in  an  in- 


172  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

credibly  short  space  of  time,  paid  my  last  rial  to  the 
boatman,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  pacing  Broadway. 
I  trembled  at  every  tailor's  shop  I  passed,  shrunk  from 
every  accidental  touch,  as  if  I  expected  and  dreaded 
pursuit — and  wandered  still,  irresolute  where  to  turn. 
I  feared  to  return  to  my  boarding  place,  and  dared  not 
apply  at  a  public  house,  because  I  imagined  '  guilty  of 
poverty'  was  stamped  on  my  forehead.  Accidentally,  I 

encountered  R .  I  strove  to  avoid  him,  but  it  was 

impossible. 

"  '  Hey  day  !  what,  i'  the  dumps  again  ?  In  the  city 
— alone — on  foot — and  as  wild  a  looking  conspirator,  as 
Catalirie  himself  could  have  been.  Why  man,  what  ails 
you  ?  Are  you  afraid  there  is  still  a  price  on  your  head 
and  a  regiment  in  pursuit  ?  ' 

" '  Mr  R ,  I  cannot  endure  this.  It  pains  me 

exceedingly.' 

"  '  Well,  I  beg  pardon — you  know  I  would  not  inten 
tionally.  Come,  make  me  your  confidant.' 

"  '  I  dare  not — but  you  must  know  eventually — and 
— you  will  despise  me.' 

"  '  Nonsense  !  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  your  self- 
accusation.' 

" '  Mr  R ! '  said  I,  with  a  tremendous  effort. 

"  '  Senor  P ! '  answered  he,  with  mock  gravity. 

" '  I  am  indebted  to  my  tailor,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars — ' 

"'Well.' 

" '  And  to  my  landlady  probably  as  much  more — ' 

"'Well—' 

"  '  And  you  are  accountable  for  both  sums.' 

"'What!    You  mean  to  commit  suicide,  and  wish 


QUID      PRO      QUO.  173 

me  to  be  your  executor.  What  shall  I  do  with  the 
balance  ?  ' 

"  '  Balance  1 ' 

"  '  Ay,  I  hold  your  funds  to  thrice  the  amount  of  your 
debts,  if  you  have  well  and  truly  rendered  an  account.' 

"  '  God  bless  you,  sir  ! '  I  was  delirious  with  pleas 
ure,  at  this  unexpected  announcement  of  good  fortune. 
'  But  why  did  you  never  tell  me  of  this  ? ' 

" '  Because  I  supposed  you  knew  it  of  course.' 

"  On  the  next  day  I  rode  with  the  Misses  R ." 


QUID    PRO    QUO. 

Oh,  what's  the  use  of  living,  such 

A  selfish  world  among  ? 
Yes,  "  What's  the  use  ?  "  a  question  is 

I  meet  on  every  tongue. 
Utilitarian  policy 

Is  now-a-days  the  go  ; 
Nobody  thinks  of  doing  aught, 

Without  a  quid  pro  qno. 

My  cousin  Jehu  keeps  a  horse, 

And  asks  me  oft  to  ride — 
But  "  What's  the  use  ?  "  I  have  to  treat, 

And  pay  the  tolls  beside  ! 
It's  very  kind  in  him  to  ask, 

And  very  prudent,  too — 
He  knows  for  every  mile  I  ride, 

He  gets  a  quid  pro  quo 
15* 


174  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

One  can't  afford  to  be  polite, 

Civility's  a  bam — 
"What  is  the  use"  to  feign  it  then, 

The  shadow  of  a  sham  ? 
If  one  asks  me  to  dine  with  him, 

I  know  that  if  I  go, 
I  must  invite  him  home  in  turn — 

He  wants  a  quid  pro  quo. 

I've  burned  my  pocket  Chesterfield, 

And  cut  Mrs  Chapone — 
Arithmetic  I'm  studying, 

And  quite  an  adept  grown  ; 
For  "  What's  the  use,"  when  barter-trade 

Is  all  one  needs  to  know, 
To  talk  of  any  thing,  beside 

"Use,"  and  the  quid  pro  quo  ? 

Prepare  you,  Mr  Coroner, 

A  verdict  to  produce — 
"This  luckless  vagrant  di-ed  of 

Excessive  'WHAT'S  THE  USE  ! '  ' 
For  "What's  the  use"  of  living  in 

A  world  so  full  of  wo  ? 
I'll  hang,  and  let  the  coroner 

Receive  his  quid  pro  quo. 


MODERN   DEGENERACY.         175 


MODERN  DEGENERACY. 

THERE  are  certain  opinions  either  preserved  in  conver 
sation,  as  proverbs,  or  perpetuated  by  scribblers,  as  fig 
ures,  which  are  completely  at  variance  with  truth — 
contradicted  by  experience — and  at  war  with  common 
sense.  They  are  things  said  of  course,  concessions 
made  for  fashion's  sake  ;  silently  acquiesced  in,  against 
conviction,  and  iterated  because  they  are  received  with 
out  contradiction,  and  may  be  made  without  any  mental 
exertion.  Among  the  most  prevalent,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  the  most  ridiculous,  is  the  idea  which  from  time 
immemorial  has  been  handed  from  generation  to  gener 
ation,  that  mankind  are  daily  degenerating  from  what 
they  were  in  "  good  old  times,"  and  "  in  the  days  of  our 
fathers."  With  the  demise  of  each  successive  genera 
tion  which  goes  down  to  the  grave,  an  undefined  degree 
of  virtue  and  worth  becomes  extinct,  and  the  successors 
to  the  places  of  their  fathers,  inherit  all  their  vices,  and 
none  of  their  virtues.  Every  good  act,  or  evidence  of 
a  worthy  trait  in  public  or  private  character,  is,  if  no 
ticed  at  all,  depreciated  by  a  comparison  with  the  virtues 
of  an  imaginary  age  of  perfection,  the  precise  date  of 
which,  nobody  pretends  to  fix.  If  a  public  man  afford 
an  example  of  patriotism,  or  a  private  one  of  worth,  the 
newspapers  rejoice  that  there  are  yet  left  to  man  some 
public  integrity  and  private  worth. 

Let  us  rejoice  that  our  lot  is  cast  to-day,  instead  of 
some  hundred  years  hence.  It  is  of  no  use  to  wish  we 
had  flourished  hundreds  of  years  back,  but  it  is  highly 


176  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

proper  to  be  grateful  that  we  live  in  the  age  that  we  do, 
instead  of  having  been  reserved  for  a  period  when  every 
attribute  which  raises  men  above  brutes  shall  have  be 
come  obsolete  and  unknown. 

At  the  fashionable  rate  of  estimating  the  downward 
ratio  of  human  worth,  it  will  not  require  many  centuries 
to  bring  about  such  a  state  of  things.  The  process  of 
deterioration  is  making  the  earth  less  and  less  worth 
one's  while  for  an  abiding-place,  and  we  must  most  af 
fectionately  pity  our  successors.  If  the  Pythagorean 
doctrine  of  transmigration  were  true,  those,  who  like 
Shakspeare's  Rosalind,  animated  the  carcasses  of  Irish 
rats,  in  the  time  of  Pythagoras,  might  inform  us  of  the 
actual  per  centage  of  the  depreciation  since  his  day ; 
and  we,  the  present  generation,  might  watch  posterity, 
in  the  shape  of  cats  and  dogs,  and  mewl  our  grief  at 
their  degeneracy,  or  growl  our  disapprobation  at  their 
departure  from  our  virtues.  But,  fortunately  for  man 
kind,  no  such  continuity  of  earthly  troubles  is  in  keep 
ing  for  us,  since  we  cannot  expect  to  move  long  upon 
earth,  even  in  a  dog's  skin  ;  and  as  no  one  can  recollect 
his  previous  metamorphoses,  it  is  fair  to  conclude,  Ros 
alind  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  that  even  the  tes 
timony  of  Irish  rats  is  denied  to  the  believers  in  the 
degeneracy  of  mankind.  Upon  whose  testimony  is  the 
fact  established  1  What  reason  has  the  present  gener 
ation  to  lament  a  falling  off  from  ancient  virtue  1  At 
what  time  did  all  the  desirable  attributes  of  man  take 
flight  from  earth,  and  leave  it  a  moral  wilderness?  Was 
it  with  the  "  last  of  the  Romans  ?  "  But  the  moral  de 
terioration  of  mankind  is  not  all  that  is  claimed  by  the 
croakers.  If  we  may  believe  them,  the  arts  and  scien- 


MODERN       DEGENERACY.  177 

ces  flourished  more  luxuriantly,  and  were  in  better  state 
in  their  infancy,  than  at  the  present  day. 

A  truce  with  nonsense.  If  ever  man  had  a  right  to 
indulge  in  pride,  that  right  is  his  at  the  present  day. 
There  have  been  in  the  history  of  the  world,  bright 
and  dark  ages  immediately  and  alternately  succeeding 
each  other.  There  has  been,  and  more  than  once,  a 
time  when  the  sage  and  virtuous  could  with  reason  weep 
the  degeneracy  of  their  cotemporaries.  Science  has 
beamed  upon  the  earth,  nations  become  great  and  glo 
rious — and  the  besom  of  destruction  wielded  by  the 
barbarian,  or  the  seeds  of  corruption  sown  by  the  luxu 
rious  and  vicious,  have  destroyed  the  fair  work,  and 
driven  mankind  back  to  barbarism.  The  teachings 
of  inspired  and  uninspired  moral  reformers  have  been 
rendered  of  no  avail,  or  prostituted  to  base  and  venal 
purposes  by  designing  men,  and  what  would  have  been 
blessings,  if  improved,  have  been  perverted  to  curses. 
But  a  new  day  has  opened  upon  earth.  Virtue,  moral 
ity,  science,  have  a  powerful  ally  in  the  PRESS,  and  the 
written  lamentations  of  ancient  worthies  in  view  of  rev 
olutions  which  no  power  could  then  avert,  should  not 
now  be  printed  in  application  to  present  time,  when  no 
revolution  for  the  worse  can  reasonably  be  anticipated. 
There  may  be  temporary  checks  to  the  progress  of 
improvement,  but  the  march  is  still  onward.  Every 
successive  step  gained,  is  retained,  and  improvement  is 
placed  upon  too  firm  a  basis  to  be  overturned,  as  of  old. 
The  registers  of  worth,  the  lessons  of  experience,  the 
histories  of  states  and  the  legacies  of  the  sage,  are  not 
collected  in  two  or  three  places,  to  be  swept  away  by 
the  will  of  a  barbarian,  or  the  occurrence  of  accident. 
Where  a  single  written  work  once  existed,  printed  copies 


178  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

innumerable  are  now  extant  of  all  that  is  worth  preserv 
ing.  The  knowledge  which  was  once  with  difficulty 
attainable  by  the  few,  is  now  forced  upon  the  many. 
People  must  learn,  whether  they  will  or  not. 

The  present  century,  hardly  more  than  one  fourth 
gone,  has  witnessed  a  revolution,  comparatively  silent, 
and  entirely  bloodless,  more  important  in  its  results,  and 
more  wonderful  in  the  means  by  which  it  is  being  con 
summated,  than  ancient  Rome,  with  all  her  boasts,  ever 
witnessed.  Roman  virtue  was  the  resistance  of  stern 
natures  to  the  syren  voice  of  luxury  and  vice,  but  was 
overcome  at  last.  We  have  seen  a  great  nation  rise 
from  indulgence  in  a  fashionable  and  fascinating  vice  ; 
and  public  opinion  has,  "  in  our  degenerate  day,"  gained 
a  victory  over  sensual  indulgence,  in  the  view  of  which 
Lycurgus  might  be  astonished,  and  the  eulogists  of  Ro 
man  virtue  should  be  dumb.  Ancient  virtue,  so  much 
lauded,  was  resistance  to  vice  in  ilsjirst  approach — mod 
ern  reformation  is  the  deliverance  from  the  last  shackles 
of  a  vice  sanctioned  by  fashion,  winked  at  by  moralists, 
and  deemed  impossible  of  suppression  by  all,  except  the 
most  sanguine.  Alluding  to  the  change  which  has 
taken  place  in  public  opinion  respecting  indulgence  in  a 
luxury  around  which  the  poetry  and  mythology  of  the 
ancients,  the  habits  and  light  literature  of  the  moderns, 
and  the  inclination  of  all  men  for  enjoyment  has  thrown 
a  charm,  we  say,  that  the  history  of  all  time  since  the 
flood,  cannot  exhibit  a  more  triumphant  instance  of 
national  reformation  than  has  been  witnessed  among 
the  degenerate  people  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

For  the  arts  and  sciences,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
observe  thr.t  the  hut  of  the  peasant  of  this  century  con 
tains  articles  which  would  have  been  deemed  luxuries 


BOOTS,  179 

in  the  ancient  temples  of  the  gods.  The  stupendous 
public  works  of  the  ancients  are  monuments  alike  of 
the  folly  and  tyranny  of  their  rulers.  Were  such  piles 
useful  or  beneficial,  modern  science  would  erect  them, 
and,  without  claiming  any  thing  on  the  score  of  the 
miraculous,  with  facility  and  comparative  rapidity,  em 
ploying  one  man  where  a  hundred  formerly  labored. 


BOOTS. 

I  LIKE  handsome  feet.  That  is  almost  the  only  reason 
I  could  never  abide  Dunlap's  picture,  "  Venus  attired 
by  the  Graces,"  after  Guido.  Her  right  foot  is  like  a 
snow-shovel — and  will  bother  the  trio,  when  they  get 
hold  of  it,  although  they  have  strapped  the  left  into 
shape  with  her  sandal.  Her  feet  cannot  be  mates. 

The  pedal  props  of  the  Chinese  lady  are  as  outre  the 
other  way.  In  a  snow-drift  she  would  travel  like  a  man 
with  wooden  legs — in  Saco,  Bangor,  or  any  of  the  clayey 
cities  down  East,  her  head-way,  after  a  rain-storm, 
would  be  like  that  of  an  ignis  fatuus  hunter  in  a  bog. 

"  The  cobler  should  not  go  beyond  his  last."  I  should 
not  wish  to — so  far,  in  disposition  at  least,  am  I  cord- 
wainer.  Not  quite  so  devoted  as  those  who  kissed  the 
great  toe  of  His  Holiness,  and  perfectly  willing  that  part 
of  the  ceremony  should  be  waived,  I  could  worship  his 
feet,  or  the  man  for  the  sake  of  his  feet,  if  they  were  in 
good  and  beautiful  proportion,  and  need  were  that  I 


180  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

worshipped  at  all.  "  Show  me  a  man's  companions," 
says  the  adage,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  his  character." 
Show  me  his  boots.  I  like  handsome  boots  hugely,  and 
as  a  consequence,  respect  the  artists  who  furnish,  the 
taste  of  those  who  purchase,  and  the  labor  of  those  who 
make  the  polished  leather  mirror  forth  the  gentlemanly 
character  of  the  wearer.  Day  &,  Martin,  Knapp,  Bell, 
Lewis,  Fisher,  and  last  though  not  least,  by  name  eu- 
phoneous  known,  Gosling !  Living  statues  to  your  art 
are  upon  'change,  and  upon  the  carpet,  in  the  saloon, 
and  in  the  hall.  To  the  tones  of  music,  the  low-quar 
tered  pump,  burnished  to  dazzling  brightness,  sliding 
down  the  dance,  repeats  enhanced,  the  brilliance  of  the 
many  branched  chandelier.  In  the  street,  the  lustre  of 
the  sun  is  mocked  by  reflection,  and  his  impudent  rays 
are  thrown  back  in  his  face,  from  that  perfection  of  art 
— the  boot.  Don't  say  a  word  of  the  ancients.  What 
were  the  art  of  embalming,  and  the  pyramids  of  Egypt, 
the  poetry  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  the  eloquence  of  Cicero 
and  Demosthenes,  the  statuary  and  painting  of  the  gar 
den  of  Europe  ?  Monarchs  in  Tyrian  purple,  and  blind 
beggar  poets,  orators,  painters  and  sculptors,  all  wore 
zandals  !  They  deserve  oblivion — and  the  labors  of  an 
tiquaries  and  scholars,  from  endeavors  to  perpetuate 
their  memories,  should  be  turned  to  cunningly  devising 
improvements  in  the  economy  of  the  art  of  gracefully 
encasing  the  human  foot  divine. 

I  never  knew  but  one  man  entirely  after  my  heart  in 
this  matter,  and  he — but  I  will  not  anticipate  my  story. 

There  was  nothing  particular  in  the  cut  or  fit  of  his 
ooat.  His  hat  was  well  enough — the  Jehu  fashion,  his 
pants,  so  so, — all  indicated  a  careless  conformity  with 
custom.  But  the  white  straps,  over  a  brilliant  black 


BOOTS.  181 

boot,  were  whiter  by  contrast,  I  felt  that  I  would  have 
«iven  the  world  for  an  introduction,  as  we  stood  together 
before  the  wheel-house — he  some  four  feet  in  front  of 
me.  As  his  body  swayed  to  and  fro,  to  keep  its  balance, 
there  was  an  alternate  fulness  and  flatness  in  either  boot, 
as  his  weight  came  first  upon  one  leg,  then  the  other. 
The  edges  of  the  soles  were  as  perfect  in  finish,  as  the 
nose  of  the  Medician  Venus — the  heels,  tapered  down 
to  the  circumference  of  a  levy,  sat  as  true  upon  deck, 
as  if  they  had  been  made  with  guage  and  square,  for 
the  very  spot  upon  which  he  was  standing. 

"  Beautiful !  "  I  exclaimed.     I  could  not  help  it. 

He  took  the  Principe  from  his  mouth,  let  the  fourth 
column  of  smoke  for  the  last  five  minutes  escape,  turned 
half  round,  and — cast  an  eye  down  to  his  boots.  There 
certainly  is  such  a  thing  as  sympathy.  According  minds 
need  no  language  to  strike  a  common  chord,  and  I  felt 
more  than  acquainted. 

Still,  I  did  not  care  to  speak.  There  was  too  much 
in  the  awe-inspiring  majesty  of  those  boots  to  permit 
such  familiarity,  without  a  pretext.  Fortunately  the 
opportunity  soon  offered  itself — his  segar  went  out — I 
tendered  him  one  from  my  own  case,  and  the  acceptance 
of  it  on  his  part  was  an  acknowledgment  of  his  conde 
scending  willingness  to  speak  and  be  spoken  to.  We 
went  through  the  usual  laborious  discussion  upon  the 
weather,  the  wind,  the  sea,  the  boat, — but  I  could  not, 
by  any  easy  turn,  give  the  conversation  the  slant  upon 
leather,  that  I  wished  it  to  take.  I  mustered  all  my 
impudence  for  a  question  categorical. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  for  my  apparently  impertinent  curi 
osity,  but — " 
16 


182  CORRECTED        PROOFS. 

"  Gemmen  please-a  move  ?  I  want'er  sweep-a  fore- 
kissle." 

Confound  that  darkey  !  The  man  of  the  boots  rolled 
his  full  black  orbs  upon  him,  wheeled  as  leisurely  as  an 
elephant  would  go  in  stays,  tossed  the  scarce  lighted 
Yara  over  the  side,  and  walked  leisurely  aft.  There  was 

Pride  in  his  port,  defiance  in  his  eye — 

And  more  than  that,  in  his  boots.     I  could  not  follow. 
The  ice,  but  a  moment  before  broken,  was  refrozen. 

Presently,  I  sought  him  again.  I  had  done  hoping 
for  an  acquaintance,  and  longed  but  to  bask  at  a  distance 
in  the  brilliance  of  Day  &  Martin.  Happy  fellow  !  He 
was  seated  on  the  promenade  deck,  his  legs  extended, 
one  over  the  other,  and  crossed  at  the  ancles.  On  either 
side  of  him  were  seated  ladies — for  a  miracle,  they  were 
silent.  Listening  to  him,  perhaps  ?  No,  he  was  not 
talking.  They  were  looking  at  his  boots.  An  extin 
guished  cinder  from  the  Hue,  fell  upon  his  left  foot — 
striking  the  instep  just  two  inches  and  a  half  from  his 
toe.  He  drew  a  grass-cloth  kerchief  from  his  right 
coat-pocket — I  am  positive  it  was  grass-cloth — held  the 
extreme  corner  of  it  between  the  thumb  and  finger  of 
the  right  hand,  and  struck  off  the  cinder  with  such  an 
air  !  Brummel,  or  Nash  would  have  died  of  envy,  had 
either  been  a  witness  of  it.  The  elements  are  malicious 
to  distinguished  men — else  had  not  fire  driven  Napoleon 
from  Moscow  in  the  midst  of  a  Russian  Winter — nor 
had  Boreas  played  the  traitor  with  him  of  the  elegant 
boots.  As  he  finished  the  cinder-reforming  flourish,  the 
delicate  grass-cloth  besom  was  rudely  snatched  from 
him  by  the  wind  ;  but  I  had  the  happiness  to  intercept 
the  fugitive,  even  after  Davy  Jones  had  made  so  sure  o^ 


BOOTS.  ,100 

it,  that  his  wife  had  opened  the  draw,  to  pack  it  with 
other  miscellanies.  As  I  handed  it,  his  acknowledg 
ments  again  opened  a  door  for  conversation. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  I,  "  you  would  confer  a  great 
favor  upon  me,  if  you  would  tell  me  the  maker  of — " 

"  All  those  gentlemen  what  hav'n't  paid  their  fare, 
will  please  walk  up  to  the  cap'n's  office  and  settle  it !  " 

"  That's  me !  "  said  Boots,  and  went  down  the  com 
panion-way.  I  now  began  to  despair  of  ever  finding  an 
opportunity  to  pop  the  question. 

There  was  a  noise  on  the  main-deck,  swearing  and 
hearty  anathemas.  I  knew  the  voice  of  the  man  of  the 
elegant  instep,  and  running  down  below,  saw  him  stand 
ing  erect  and  motionless,  while  his  lips  moved,  and  as 
steady  a  torrent  of  imprecation  rolled  forth,  as  ever 
heretic  was  denounced  withal.  At  his  feet  was  a  black 
servant,  picking  up  the  fragments  of  a  soup-tureen,  and 
upon  his  boots,  his  hitherto  spotless  boots,  were  clots  of 
half-congealed  grease.  The  captain  essayed  the  mol- 
lificatioruof  his  wrath — in  vain.  I  tried,  with  no  better 
success.  He  might  have  raved  till  this  time,  had  it  not 
been  for  one  of  those  lovely  beings  "Nature  made  to 
temper  man." 

"  My  dear ,"  (I  did  not  hear  the  name,)  "  put 

ou  your  other  pair." 

It  would  seem  that,  till  then,  he  had  forgotten  them  ; 
on  the  instant  a  smile  passed  over  his  features,  as  he 
ordered  the  luckless  servant  to  bring  his  trunk  upon  the 
promenade-deck.  "  Provoking,  wasn't  it,  sir  ?  " 

I  was  enchanted — he  had  really  addressed  me  !  With 
all  haste  I  pressed  the  advantage  thus  offered — expatia 
ted  upon  the  beauties  of  a  well-cased  foot — discussed 
the  merits  of  various  rival  metropolitan  boot-makers — 


184  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

and  ended  with  the  question,  plump,  "  who  furnishes 
you,  sir?" 

The  arrival  of  the  trunk  upon  deck  cut  off  the  answer. 
"  I  have  here  sir,  a  pair  of  boots — elegant  boots.  Those 
[  have  on  are  quite  an  ordinary  affair,  but  these,  (taking 
a  neatly  folded  package  from  the  trunk,)  these  arc  beau 
ties.  I  have  worn  them  but  once — it  was  when  I  rode 
with  Miss  F****  K*****— " 

"  Miss  F****  K*****  ! "  cried  half  a  dozen  ladies 
at  once,  as  they  crowded  up  at  the  mention  of  her  name. 

"  Exactly,  ladies.  She  noted  them,  as  I  drew  my 
charger  up  beside  her  palfrey,  and  said  a  London  artist 
could  not  have  turned  out  a  better  pair." 

"Indeed  !  it  will  be  the  making  of  the  maker." 

"Who  is  he?"  I  enquired  for  the  third  time.  But 
he  had  stooped  to  lock  his  trunk,  and  did  not  hear  rne. 
He  untied  the  packthread  about  the  bundle — the  ladies, 
dear  curious  creatures,  crowded  round  to  see  the  boots 
which  had  been  endorsed  as  beautiful,  by  the  reigning 
toast.  I  was  pushed  back — and  could  just  see  the  edge 
of  envelope  after  envelope,  as  each  was  removed.  In  a 
moment  more,  the  boots  fell  on  deck,  with  a  blow  like 
an  oak  block,  and  the  owner  rushed  by  me,  frantic. 

"  Oh  dear!  "  cried   a  lady.     She  fainted. 

"  A  man  overboard!"  The  faint  one  was  the  first 
to  scream,  and  the  loudest.  Who  minds  a  fainting  lady, 
when  a  man  is  drowning? 

The  wheels  were  backed,  the  boat  was  lowered,  and 
1  stepped  into  it.  We  pulled  for  the  drowning  man — 
he  sank  like  a  whale,  flukes  uppermost,  I  am  ready 
to  swear,  by  the  marks  on  the  soles,  that  his  boots  were 
V'g,  and  of  Spear's  make. 


TO     BE     WELL      BRED.  185 

The  boots  dropped  on  deck  were — cowhides  !  The 
hostler  at  the Hotel, Street,  Boston,  was  ob 
served  to  wear  a  remarkably  handsome  pair,  upon  the 
Sunday  after  the  day  that  Mr ,  of  the  hand 
some  boots,  took  the  steamboat  for ;  and  the  last 

order  from  that  gentleman  recollected  by  the  bar-keeper, 
was  a  direction  that  his  boots  should  be  neatly  polished, 
and  packed  in  three  newspapers. 

I  have  heard  that  a  man  answering  the  description  ot 

Mr has  made  his  everlasting  fortune  down 

East,  in  the  land  speculation — but  it  can  hardly  be  him, 
though  he  was  a  good  swimmer — because  the  speculator 
is  said  to  wear  boots  remarkably  ungain.  It  would  be 
monstrous  to  suppose  that  even  death  itself  could  make 
a  man  recreant  to  good  taste  in  sole-leather, — much 
more  that  a  narrow  escape  from  drowning  should  wean 

him  from  his  devotion  to  the  tutelar  saint  of  the  cord- 

• 
wamers, 


TO    BE     WELL     BRED, 

NEVER  be  astonished,  except  at  a  prodigy  of  a  child, 
who  mistakes  the  letter  X  for  a  saw-horse,  and  makes 
turkey-tracks  on  paper,  for  the  alphabet.  Fabricius,  in 
pants,  would  be  a  model  for  a  fine  gentleman.  He  was 
not  moved  at  first  sight  of  an  elephant — though  draw 
ing  a  screen  revealed  the  monster,  directly  at  his  back. 
16* 


186  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 


THE    MOTHER    TO    HER    INFANT 

UPON      ITS      BIRTH      DAY. 


SUGGESTED    BY    AN    OLD    PAINTING. 


LITTLE  prattler,  whither  bent 
In  thy  thoughtless  merriment? 
Every  object  pleasure  giving — 
In  the  luxury  of  living 
Thou'rt  a  very  epicure. 

Bubbles  bursting  in  thy  reach 
Self-distrust  nor  caution  teach  ; 
Bent  the  phantoms  to  pursue, 
Still  thou  turn'st  to  objects  new — 
Older  children  how  unlike  ! 

Disappointments  wound  thee  not, 
Past  in  present  is  forgot — 
While  thine  elders,  lacking  yet 
Infant  wisdom,  will  forget 
Pleasure  in  recalling  pain. 

Springing  from  a  source  innate, 
Blisses  pure  upon  thee  wait — 
Pure  and  holy  as  the  hymn 
Of  seraph  and  of  cherubim  : 
Thou  art  joy  incarnate,  child. 

Years  give  wisdom,  infant  dear  ; 
Come — thou  hast  achieved  a  year- 
Look  from  out  thy  sparkling  eyes 
Silly-sad,  and  worldly-wise  : 
Mary,  be  a  woman  once  ! 


TO      AN      INFANT.  £  187 

Fit  upon  thy  mother's  knee, 
While  from  dim  futurity 
All  a  mother's  sad  delight — 
All  a  woman's  second  sight 
Visions  bright  and  gloomy  call. 

List  thee  to  the  hopes  and  fears, 
Joys  and  griefs  of  coming  years — 
Fading  pleasures — hopes  deferred — 
Child,  thou  dost  not  hear  a  word  ! 
Happy — careless  of  thy  fate  ! 


Take  thy  way  then,  pretty  one  : 
Since  the  future  cannot  be 
Changed  for  good  or  ill  by  thee, 
Not  to  heed  it  thou  art  wise. 

If  I  could  thy  future  lot 
Spread  before  thee,  I  would  not  ; 
No  such  shadow  would  I  cast 
O'er  life's  Spring  time  : — while  it  last, 
Let  it  Spring  time  be  indeed. 


CORRECTED  PROOFS, 


WANDERINGS    OF     MR     PETER 
PEREGRINATE 

IN      SEARCH      OF      A      BOARDING-HOUSE. 

"Shall  I  not  take  mine  ease  in  mine  inn?" — Falstoff. 
INDEED  you  may,  Mr  Reader,  if  the  attainment  of 
such  or  any  other  resting  place  has  cost  you  as  much 
trouble  as  it  has  your  most  obedient  servant,  Peter 
Peregrinate,  Scrivener  by  profession,  and  Esquire  by 
courtesy.  Commission  me  if  you  will  to  go  in  search 
of  Capt.  Back — to  discover  the  exact  location  of 
Sy mines' s  Hole — to  trace  on  the  map  of  the  world  the 
course  of  the  Wandering  Jew — to  follow  the  path  of 
the  late  Lorenzo  Dow — or  to  invent  a  machine  capable 
of  perpetual  motion, — but,  "  an'  you  love  me,"  deliver 
me  from  the  necessity  of  undertaking  an  expedition  to 
obtain  a  "  boarding-house." 

The  dove  that  father  Noah  despatched  in  search  of 
dry  land,  could  return  to  her  old  quarters  when  she 
could  not  elsewhere  find  "rest  for  the  sole  of  her  foot." 
Not  so  the  unlucky  wight,  who,  without  thought  for  the 
morrow,  calls  for  his  board  bill  "  up  to  this  evening," 
without  having  provided  a  place  to  lay  his  head,  after 
leaving  his  present  domicil.  As  the  nun,  upon  taking 
the  black  veil,  renounces  all  connexion  with  the  world, 
and  debars  herself  from  return  to  it ;  so  the  boarder, 
upon  notifying  his  landlady  of  his  intention  to  quit  her 
premises,  becomes  undomcsticatcd,  and  lias  no  longer 
right  to  her  five  pound  hen-feather  down  beds  ;  her  black 


PETER     PEREGRINATE.  189 

puddings  arid  baked  roast  beef;  her  burnt  steak,  duly 
besprinkled  with  ashes ;  her  slate-colored  coffee  and 
distilled  tea-kettle  ;  or  her  leaden  loaves  and  nice  strong 
butter.  He  is  an  outlaw  and  a  vagrant  in  her  house ; 
and  having  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  of  tacitly 
disputing  the  excellence  of  her  commons,  it  is  an  es 
pecial  favor,  grudgingly  granted,  if  he  be  permitted  to 
sleep  again  under  her  roof.  After  leaving  it,  return  is 
out  of  the  question,  unless,  by  mollifying  her  wrath  by 
apology,  he  lay  himself  open  to  all  the  penance  she 
may  inflict  for  his  error,  and  to  endure  all  the  insolence, 
which,  as  a  conqueror,  she  has  a  right  to  put  upon  him. 

Full  well  was  I  sensible  of  all  this,  as,  on  the  morn 
ing  after  having  "  given  my  notice,"  I  Jay  upon  Mrs 
Cater's  down  bed,  my  eyes  attentively  fastened  upon 
the  ceiling  of  the  room,  just  four  feet  two  inches  distant 
from  my  nasal  promontory.  "  Behold,"  said  I,  men 
tally,  "  the  spiders  above  me  ;  they  toil  to  be  sure,  and 
they  spin,  but  even  they,  in  all  their  trouble,  are  not 
afflicted  like  Peter  Peregrinate,  Esquire.  If  they  wish 
to  change  their  quarters,  they  need  not  give  Mrs  Cater 
notice,  for  she  takes  no  notice  of  them.  They  have 
only  to  travel  from  place  to  place  about  her  premises, 
and  their  only  trouble  is,  in  finding  the  best  and  most 
prominent  situations  pre-occupied  by  beings  of  their 
own  species.  They " 

"Mr  Peter  Peregrinate  !"  cried  my  landlady,  in  her 
agreeable  silver  tone,  at  my  door  ;  "  Mr  Peter  Pere 
grinate  !  If  you  be  gvvine  to  get  up  to-day,  I  wisht 
you  would  !  Here's  a  gentleman  what  wants  board  is 
been  waiting  an  hour,  to  look  at  this  room  !" 

I  sprang  from  the  bed,  whose  elasticity  aided  me  in 
my  leap  as  much  as  a  mahogany  plank  would  assist  a 


190  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

voltigcr  in  ground  and  lofty  tumbling ;  and,  hurrying 
on  my  clothing,  in  ten  minutes  was  discussing  a  bowl 
of  cafe  at  Madame  Coiffaird's.  I  did  not  care  to  stop 
at  Mrs  Cater's,  and  take  vinegar  in  my  slops,  so  in 
dulged  myself  in  the  luxury  of  bona  fide  coffee,  and  a 
bit  of  rusk,  at  Madame's.  While  there,  I  received, 
accidentally,  the  agreeable  intelligence,  that,  during 
the  day  following,  I  might  expect  my  dearly  beloved 
help-meet,  with  her  dearly  beloved  trio  of  pledges,  and 
her  sister  and  niece.  (Parenthesis — My  wife,  God 
bless  her,  is  very  economical,  and  the  thought  of  a 
hotel  creates  a  spasmodic  contraction  of  her  purse- 
strings.)  Here  was  a  fix.  A  man  without  the  appenda 
of  wife  and  little  ones,  may  run  and  eat, — he  may 
breakfast  at  the  Exchange,  dine  at  the  Tremont,  sup 
at  Fenno's,  and  sleep — in  the  watch-house,  if  he  likes ; 
but  with  a  wife  and  the  little  Peregrinates,  such  pere 
grination  were  out  of  the  question. 

I  have  shinned  during  the  last  half  hour  of  the  last 
bank  hour  of  the  last  day  of  grace, — I  have  run  my 
self  to  a  shadow,  like  a  tallow  candle,  at  100  deg. 
Fahrenheit,  to  be  in  time  for  the  steamboat, — I  have 
run  away  from  a  footpad,  dodged  a  highwayman,  bilked 
a  Charlie,  and  swam  for  dear  life, — but  all  the  affliction, 
the  perspiration,  the  provocation  and  anxiety  of  all  my 
other  trials  combined,  never  equalled  in  amount  of  suf 
fering,  what  I  endured  while  looking  for  quarters  for 

My  sister,  and  my  sister's  child, 
My.  wife,  and  children  three. 

I  took  up  a  daily,  and  thought  myself  the  most  fortu 
nate  man  in  the  world,  when  I  found  an  advertisement 
in  which  it  was  stated  that  "  boarders  could  be  accom 
modated  in  a  central  situation."  Fearful  lest  some  one 


PETER     PEREGRINATE.  191 

should  slip  in  between  me  and  my  boarding-house,  of 
which  I  had  already  in  imagination  taken  possession,  1 
hurried  to  "enquire  of  the  printer."  The  accommo 
dations  were  chambers  in  the  lower  part  of  Milk  Street 
— a  delightful  situation  for  a  residence,  and  quiet  withal, 
as  loads  of  Russia  iron,  rattling  of  trucks,  squeaking 
of  blocks  and  tackles,  the  yo-heave-ho  of  sailors,  and 
the  conversation  of  the  "  finest  pisantry  in  the  world  " 
can  make  it.  I  need  not  tell  the  reader  that  I  did  not 
trouble  the  landlady  to  show  me  the  premises.  Other 
newspaper  boarding-houses  were  equally  eligible  places. 
Some  required  the  thread  with  which  Theseus  guided 
Ariadne  out  of  the  Cretan  Labyrinth,  to  find  them — 
others  were  too  easily  found,  as  they  were  in  the  noisiest 
thoroughfares  in  the  city — some  had  no  water,  and  others 
a  cellar  full — some  had  no  air,  and  others  an  abundance 
of  the  worst  air  in  the  world.  One  obliging  lady  wished 
me  to  furnish  her  parlor,  and  pay  the  rent,  allowing  her 
the  privilege  of  turning  me  out  of  it  when  her  country- 
cousins  visited  her,  i.  e.  four  days  in  the  week,  exclusive 
of  Sundays.  One  family  served  up  brick-dust  and  bran, 
on  the  Graham  principle,  and  another  had  eleven  chil 
dren,  which,  with  the  little  Peregrinates,  would  have 
made  an  aggregate  of  three  fourths  of  a  score. 

"  Oh  Mrs  Cater  !  "  I  unconsciously  exclaimed,  "  Oh 
Mrs  Cater,  would  I  had  borne  with  you  longer  !  Your 
worst  faults  were  virtues,  and  the  miseries  of  your  es 
tablishment,  tender  mercies,  in  comparison  with  what 
I  have  this  day  seen  in  other  places  !  "  At  that  moment 
"  Rooms  to  Let,"  pasted  in  the  window  of  a  very  neat 
house,  caught  my  eye.  To  spring  to  the  door  was  the 
work  of  an  instant,  to  pull  the  bell  the  work  of  another. 
The  parlor  was  spacious — neat;  the  air  of  the  cham- 


192  CORRECTED       PROOFS. 

bers  was  close,  and  I  opened  a  window.  "  Whew-ew!  " 
I  whistled,  and  abstracted  my  linen-cambric  from  my 
eoat-pocket.  "  It's  nothing  but  a  soap  and  candle  fac 
tory,"  said  my  conductress.  When  I  reached  the  street, 
I  was  in  a  perspiration.  The  lower  rooms  in  another 
house  were  very  well — the  upper  rooms,  upper  rooms 
indeed.  I  don't  like  to  waste  too  much  of  my  life  upon 
staircases. 

At  one  place  the  doors  were  closed,  and  the' lights 
out  at  half  past  nine — at  another  it  was  never  shut  dur 
ing  the  night,  longer  than  fifteen  minutes  at  a  time. 
Fifteen  night-keys,  in  the  pockets  of  fifteen  gentlemen- 
boarders,  kept  it  on  the  swing  from  the  going  down, 
even  unto  the  rising  of  the  sun.  But  to  discourse  longer 
of  my  trials  would  weary  the  patience  of  the  reader. 
If  any  doubt,  let  him  try  the  rounds.  To  conclude,  I 
have  at  length  found  excellent  quarters,  and  having  be 
come  domiciled  again,  no  slight  cause  shall  induce  me 
to  vacate  them. 


TO    AVOID    BOMBAST. 

NEVER  fancy  a  subject  too  lofty  for  language — and  never 
have  two  styles  of  conversation,  one  for  the  eye,  and 
another  for  the  ear.  Do  not  attempt  to  describe  what 
you  do  not  feel — and  if  you  feel  what  you  cannot  des 
cribe,  say  nothing  about  it. 


OLD      KIT.  193 


OLD    KIT    AND    HIS    DAUGHTERS. 

There  is  no  flesh  in  his  obdurate  heart. 

THIS  quotation,  like  most  quotations,  will  not  bear  a 
literal  application.  I  have  no  doubt  that  when  Kit 
Meanwell  dies,  (Christopher  Meanwell,  Gentleman,  is 
his  title  in  legal  instruments,)  if  a  post  mortem  is  had, 
there  will  be  found  a  heart  of  flesh,  but  of  the  consist 
ence  and  impenetrability  of  jerked  beef.  He  does  not 
intend  to  be  cruel  or  unfeeling,  and  does  not  know  that 
he  can  be  reproached  as  such  a  person.  Devoid  of  deli 
cacy  and  sensibility,  he  makes  no  allowance  for  such 
weaknesses  in  the  character  of  others,  and  the  mere 
mention  of  them  calls  from  him  a  damnatory  expressio 
of  doubt,  and  an  anathema  upon  those  who  enter  a  plea 
so  effeminate.  He  can  understand  a  complaint  of  frozen 
ears  or  fingers,  when  he  knows  the  thermometer  ranges 
ten  to  fifteen  degrees  below  zero — but  laughs  at  the 
opinion  sometimes  expressed,  that  a  cold  demeanor  to  a 
dependant,  or  unfortunate,  though  it  accompany  a  favor, 
freezes  the  current  of  gratitude  in  the  bosom  of  the 
recipient. 

His  wife,  good  woman,  is  a  descendant  of  the  Puri 
tans,  and  so,  indeed,  is  Kit  himself.  Between  every  man 
and  wife  there  is  a  difference,  and  that  which  particularly 
exists  between  Christopher  and  his  help-meet,  consists 
in  this — that  she,  from  her  puritan  progenitors,  inherits 
all  their  pious  horror  of  language  garnished  with  pro 
fane  adjectives,  and  other  parts  of  speech  ;  while  the 

vernacular  tongue  of  an  unmentionable  place,  set  to 
17 


194  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

music,  and  performed  by  a  demoniac  choir,  with  an 
appropriate  orchestral  accompaniment,  would  not  affect 
or  affright  Kit  a  hair.  Therefore,  he  will  not  in  her 
presence  abate  one  iota  of  his  hot  vocabulary,  though 
she  assures  him  that  his  profanity  is  a  constant  source 
of  poignant  grief  to  her.  He  does  not  believe  her,  be 
cause  he  never  felt  pain  of  this  description — and  it  would 
-  be  as  impossible  to  convince  him  she  is  in  earnest,  as 
to  persuade  the  emperor  of  Japan,  that,  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year,  the  waters  of  our  New  England  rivers  will 
support  an  elephant  on  their  surface.  He  is  not  at  all 
insensible  to  her  corporeal  suffering — never  strikes  her, 
or  plants  his  boots  upon  her  corns — intentionally.  He 
has  been  known,  like  the  hero  of  Sterne's  "  Good  Warm 
Watchcoat,"  to  travel  the  village  in  search  of  a  styptic 
for  his  wife's  bleeding  finger,  and  return  with  his  pockets 
full  of  cobwebs.  He  has  been  known  to  delay  his  break 
fast  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  while  the  faculty  were 
in  consultation  on  the  case  of  his  wife,  when  she  laid 
at  death's  door  ;  and  he  has  also  put  up  with  cold  din 
ners  three  days  in  the  week,  when  the  attention  of  the 
factotum  who  officiated  as  "  help,"  was  divided  between 
the  kitchen  and  the  sick-chamber.  He  waits  upon  his 
wife  on  all  public  occasions,  which  perhaps  occur  once 
in  a  couple  of  months,  and  she  waits  upon  him,  upon 
every  other  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in 
the  year. 

Christopher  has  a  couple  of  daughters — they  are  fair 
to  look  upon,  but  are  sad  vixens,  each  in  her  way.  As 
in  all  families  where  the  man  and  wife  are  two,  the 
children  are  equally  divided.  Eliza,  the  romping  junior 
sister,  is  her  father's  pet,  and  Helen,  the  mathematically 
precise  and  correct  daughter,  sides  with  her  mother. 


OLD      KIT.  195 

Helen  torments  her  father  so  innocently,  uprightly,  and 
in  a  way  so  perfectly  irreproachable,  that  notwithstand 
ing  she  has  jaded  the  old  man  almost  to  death,  the  de- 
mures  who  are  her  friends  and  associates,  mark  her  as 
a  pattern  of  a  dutiful  daughter,  and  denounce  Old  Kit, 
as  a  very  unreasonable,  undutiful  father.  Eliza  is  the 
favorite  of  her  father's  friends,  who  admire  her  as  a  girl 
of  spirit — a  miracle  of  a  girl — and  they  lament  that 
such  an  one  should  be  blessed  with  a  mother  unable  to 
appreciate  her  transcendant  excellencies. 

While  the  daughters  were  at  home,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  the  family  circle  was  in  a  state  of  civil  war.  Civil, 
literally,  for  they  tormented  each  other  in  the  best  pos 
sible  humor.  A  shower  of  tears  from  the  mother,  sec 
onded  and  assisted,  if  necessary,  by  an  appeal  to  the 
same  dernier  rcssort  on  the  part  of  Helen,  threw  cold 
water  on  the  hostilities.  Kit  and  Eliza  beat  an  honor 
able  retreat,  and  sunshine  succeeded,  till  Helen  and 
her  mother  attempted  to  take  advantage  of  the  result 
of  the  drawn  battle.  On  the  other  hand,  when  Old  Kit 
pealed  out  his  small-shot  irregularly  and  vehemently — 
after  the  manner  of  a  company  of  militia,  when  their 
officer  gives  the  command  known  only  in  American  tac 
tics,  "  Load'n  fire's  fast's  you  can,  till  you've  fired  away 
all  your  catridgcs  !  "  the  wife  and  elder  daughter  left 
him  the  field. 

When  one  nation  declares  war  against  another,  all 
the  dependencies  are  included  in  the  hostile  proclama 
tion.  Although,  in  our  friend's  family,  there  was  no 
formal  declaration,  actual  hostilities  existed — and  went 
of  course,  against  the  dependencies  of  either  party — the 
respective  danglers  of  Helen  and  Eliza.  Did  a  modestly 
disposed,  sedate  youth  affect  Helen's  favor  ?  Eliza  drove 


196  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

him  off  with  some  merciless  joke,  or  by  successive  at 
tacks  of  raillery  and  railing,  her  father  aiding  and  abet 
ting.  Eliza's  flames,  on  the  other  hand,  were  blown 
out  by  the  cold  prudery  of  the  elder  sister — sighed,  sen 
timentalized,  moralized,  and  frozen  to  death.  The 
mother,  waiting  as  a  corps  de  reserve,  always  effectually 
finished  what  Helen  began,  in  the  way  of  frustrating 
the  hopes  of  the  younger  sister.  Each  carried  on  the 
war  offensive,  neither  acting  at  all  on  the  defensive,  till 
it  began  to  be  apparent  to  all  the  young  bachelors,  that 
to  make  demonstrations  at  the  hand  of  one  of  the  sisters 
was  to  expose  the  adventurer  to  the  fire  of  the  other. 
Had  there  been  an  agreement  between  them  to  keep  all 
male  animals  at  a  distance,  it  could  not  so  effectually 
have  answered  the  purpose.  Either  of  the  sisters  was 
a  prize  worth  taking — indeed,  had  other  inducements 
been  wanting,  there  were  certain  parchments  in  the  old 
man's  desk,  duly  recorded  in  the  office  of  the  Register 
of  Deeds,  which  were  altogether  recommendatory. 

A  new  "  shingle  "  was  one  morning  nailed  above  a 

door  in  the  village  of  A ,  and  the  name  of  Henry 

Capias,  Attorney  at  Law,  figured  on  it,  in  gilt  letters. 
He  brought  letters  to  the  magnates  of  the  village,  in 
cluding  Christopher  Meanwell,  Esq.  of  course.  Through 
the  old,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  young,  and  in 
a  few  weeks  after  his  arrival,  no  party  was  complete 
without  Henry  Capias. 

I  was  sitting  with  him  one  night  in  his  office — we  had 
just  returned  from  Meanwell's  house,  which  had  been 
thrown  open  for  the  evening,  to  all  the 'young  people  in 
town — being  the  third  of  a  series  of  entertainments  at 
that  time  customarily  given  by  the  hospitable  dwellers 
in  country  towns.  First  in  order  came  the  old  married 


OLD      KIT. 


197 


couples,  very  old  bachelors,  widows,  and  spinsters  of  an 
uncertain  age.  Next,  the  young  married,  and  on  the 
third  evening,  the  young  unmarried.  But  this  is  a  di 
gression. 

"Devilish  fine  girls,  those  Meanwells." 

"  True." 

"  I  will  marry  one  of  them." 

"  You  cannot,  Capias." 

"Why?" 

I  gave  him  the  sketch  that  the  reader  has  had — cir 
cumstantially  and  particularly. 

"  But  I  will  have  one  of  them,  nevertheless." 

"How?" 

"  Time  will  show." 

"Which  attempt  first  ?" 

"Both!" 

****** 

A  week  afterwards,  as  the  Meanwells  sat  at  breakfast, 
there  seemed  no  topic  to  quarrel  upon.  The  cat  sat 
demurely  at  the  fireside,  pricking  first  one  ear,  then  the 
other.  Poor  Tabby !  she  was  astonished.  A  dozen 
years  in  the  family  service,  had  not  witnessed  so  peace 
able  a  breaking  of  the  fast.  Even  Plague,  Old  Kit's 
terrier,  who  generally  shattered  the  nerves  of  Mrs  Mean- 
well  and  her  eldest  daughter,  by  a  barking  accompani 
ment  to  the  three  meals,  was  silently  sitting  on  his  hams. 

"  I  say,"  roared  Old  Kit,  "  he's  a  whining  young 
hypocrite  !"" 

"  Who  ?  father,"  inquired  Eliza, 

"  That  young  Capias." 

"Why,  father!" 

"  Well,  Mr  Meanwell,  /  think  him  a  boisterous  young 
scapegrace,"  said  Mrs  Meanwell. 
17* 


198  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

"Why  mother  !  how  can  you?"  cried  Helen. 

Puss  got  up,  and  shaking  her  coat,  evidently  relieved 
by  the  breach  of  silence,  walked  up  to  Mrs  Meanwell, 
for  her  share  of  the  crumbs.  The  dog's  eyes  sparkled, 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  opened  his  noisy  throat,  for 
his  pension  from  Old  Kit. 

"  That  noisy  dog,  Mr  Meanwell !  " 

"  That  nasty  cat,  Mrs  Meanwell!  " 

And  like  cat  and  dog,  breakfast  being  finished,  they 
parted.  Christopher  to  scold  Eliza  for  defending  Mr 
Capias,  Mrs  Meanwell  to  remonstrate  with  Helen,  do. 
do.  Eliza  danced  away  from  her  father  to  the  piano, 
to  learn  a  new  song  of  Capias's  presentation,  and  Helen 
sighed  out  her  grief  at  her  mother's  opposition  to  Capias, 
over  a  beautiful  Polyglot  Bible,  the  gift  of  the  young 
attorney. 

*  ***** 

I  like  to  meet  people  at  breakfast.  Therefore,  reader, 
we  will  take  coffee  again  with  the  Meanwell's.  Sup 
pose  it  on  December  twenty-ninth, — eighteen-hundred 
and any  year  you  please. 

"  I  do  think,  papa,  we  ought  to  improve  the  sleighing, 
and  take  a  ride  for  New  Year's,"  said  Eliza. 

"  And  I  think  so  too,"  cried  Mrs  Meanwell. 

"  And  I,"  said  Helen. 

"  And  I,"  said  Christopher.  "  Whe,re  shall  it  be, 
Eliza?" 

"  To  Providence,  pa.  It  does  seem  so  odd  to  Mr 
Capias,  that  we  have  lived  so  long  within  twenty  miles 
of  that  city  without  ever  having  been  there.  I  never 
was  in  Rhode  Island." 

"  D — n  Mr  Capias  !"  said  the  gentle  father. 

"  You  shock  me,   Mr  Meanwell — but  I  dislike   Mr 


OLD   KIT.  iyy 

Capias  as  much  as  you  do.     I  think  we  had  better  go  to 
B to  attend  the  ordination." 

"  No,  I  won't !  You  may,  if  you  please,  go  there  with 
Helen.  I  go  to  Providence,  with  Eliza." 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

January  2d,  18 — .  "  Such  a  sermon,"  said  Mrs 
Meanwell. 

"  Such  a  prayer,"  said  Helen.  "  I  do  wish  Mr  Ca 
pias  could  have  heard  it." 

"  Mr  Capias,  indeed  !"  said  Eliza. 

"  And  why  not  Mr  Capias  ?"  said  Kit.  "  He  is  just 
the  canting  thing  for  your  sister." 

"  Mr  Meanwell,  I  am  astonished — surprised — grieved 
at  your  impiety.  Mr  Capias  is  no  more  of  a  Christian 
than  yourself!"  said  Mrs  Meanwell. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  madam  1  Do  you  take  me  for  a 
Jew,  or  a  Pagan,  or  a  Hindoo,  or — or — or, — at  any  rate 
I  am  not  a  hypocrite,  like  Capias." 

"  He  is  not  a  hypocrite,  father,"  said  Eliza. 

"  Well,  well,  child,  we  did  not  need  him  at  Provi 
dence  to  add  to  our  enjoyment,  did  we,  Eliza  ?" 

Eliza  blushed. 

In  the  country,  they  read  the  newspaper  after  break 
fast.  Mr  Christopher  Meanwell  composed  himself  in 
his  arm-chair  to  read  the  Literary  Subaltern.  "  An 
odd  fish  that  Southworth,  the  printer  of  this  paper.  I 
subscribed  day  before  yesterday." 

"  Who  is  married,  father  1  "  said  Helen. 

At  that  moment  Eliza  glided  away  from  behind  her 
father's  chair,  and  slipped  out  of  the  room.  The  old 
gentleman  wiped  and  adjusted  his  spectacles,  found  the 
proper  reading  distance,  and — dropped  the  Literary 
Subaltern,  as  if  it  had  been  a  heated  poker.  Forth- 


200  CORRECTED    PROOFS. 

with  his  lips  opened,  and  there  issued  from  his  mouth 
an  unusual  stream  of  his  usual  expletives — ending  with 
"Liz,  you  slut !  Liz  !  Eliza  !"  No  Eliza  answered. 

Helen  picked  up  the  paper — read — and  swooned, — 
Mrs  Meanwell  caught  it  up — looked,  and  tried  to  faint. 
Perceiving,  however,  that  Helen's  fit  was  real,  she  con 
cluded  to  postpone  hers,  till  her  daughter  recovered. 

"  A  canting,  hypocritical'  young  scoundrel !  If  he  had 
been  a  young  man  of  spirit — " 

"  I  tell  you  he  is  ! "  screamed  Mrs  Meanwell ;  "  a 
wild  graceless  youth — a  harum-scarum  dog,  a — " 

"  By  Heaven,  I  believe  you're  right,  madam,  and  it 
is  not  so  bad  after  all.  I'll  go  look  after  him." 

He  met  Mr  and  Mrs  Capias  at  the  door.  "  Was  this 
your  scheme,  Eliza?"  She  looked  at  Capias.  "  Was 
it  yours,  sir?"  He  looked  at  Eliza.  "Aha!  it  was 
contrived  between  you.  I'll  disinherit  you,  madam." 

"We  expected  it,  sir,"  said  Capias. 

"  You  did,  did  you  ?  Well  then,  d n  me  if  I  do  ! 

I'm  determined  to  disappoint  you,  at  any  rate." 

The  manoeuvre  by  which  he  foiled  the  tri-bodied  Cer 
berus  which  guarded  Eliza,  the  reader  has  perceived. 
To  Kit,  he  was  a  hypocrite,  his  detestation- — to  the  wife, 
he  appeared  a  rake,  her  just  abomination — to  Helen,  he 
played  the  hypocrite,  but  so  guardedly  that  she  did  not 
see  through  the  disguise — and  to  Eliza,  he  seemed  what 
he  was.  The  ruse  formed  a  new  division  in  the  Mean- 
well  family,  daughters  against  parents. 

Eliza  out  of  the  way,  Helen  soon  consoled  herself 
in  one  of  her  old  loves,  for  the  loss  of  Capias — and  Helen 
and  Eliza,  now  both  married  matrons,  often  make  merry 
over  the  story  of  the  ride  to  Providence.  The  old 
gentleman  repeats  it,  as  often  as  he  can  find  a  victim 


A      SECRET 


upon  whom  to  inflict  it.  He  delights  in  Capias,  and  even 
the  old  lady  has  ceased  to  consider  her  son-in-law  an 
absolute  criminal. 


SIR,  A  SECRET!    MOST    IMPORTANT! 

"  I'LI  tell  you  what  it  is,  Burley,  I've  no  business 
here." 

"  /came  for  business,  you  for  pleasure." 

"  True,  but  it  was  for  a  day,  and  you  have  made  a 
week  of  it.  Here  I  am,  twenty-five  miles  from  the 
city—" 

"  An  awful  distance,  truly,  that  you  may  accomplish 
on  the  rail-road  in  forty-five  minutes." 

"  Yes,  but  I  might  as  well  be  with  the  Khan  of  Tar- 
tary,  as  here,  inasmuch  as  nobody  at  home  knows  of 
my  visit  to  this  city  of  spindles." 

"  We  will  back  to-day — this  hour,  if  you  like." 

"  This  hour  we  must,  if  at  all ;"  and  in  a  short  time 
we  were  shooting  over  the  Boston  and  Lowell  rail-road. 
It  was  the  last  trip  for  the  day,  and  when  we  reached 
the  city,  it  was  nearly  or  quite  dark.  Baggage  I  had 
none,  so  I  refused  the  importunities  of  a  score  of  hack 
ney  coachmen,  and  footed  it  alone  up  Leverett  Street. 

"  Very  mysterious,"  I  overheard  one  of  a  knot  of 
men  say,  at  the  corner  of  Barton  Street. 

"  About  twenty-five  years  of  age,"  said  one  of  a 
group,  at  the  corner  of  Vernon  Street.  Just  my  own 


2t)2  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

age  exactly.  "  The  body  was  found  in  the  water,  yes 
terday,"  said  another.  "  Indeed,  and  do  they  know  it 
was  he  ?"  "  Yes,  by  his  clothing  ;  the  face  was  so 
terribly  disfigured,  that  his  friends  could  not  recognise 
it." 

Another  case  of  suicide,  thought  I.  Well,  I  shall 
know  all  about  it  when  I  get  home  ;  but  I  stopped  again, 
before  a  store  in  Green  Street,  where  a  man  was  read 
ing  from  the  evening  paper,  aloud,  a  paragraph  about 
the  suicide  ;  the  name  I  did  not  hear.  "  A  young 
man  of  respectable  connexions — retired  and  modest  to 
timidity  in  his  manners,  and  of  irreproachable  private 
character.  No  possible  reason  except  temporary  insan 
ity  can  be  assigned  for  the  deed.  He  has  left  a  wife 
and  two  children."  , 

"  Poor  fellow  !"  I  sighed,  and  pushed  on.  Let  me 
see — the  tea  hour  is  passed,  and  my  help-meet,  though 
a  very  good  woman  in  her  way,  will  not  fail  to  give  me 
a  pretty  affectionate  bit  of  a  lecture  for  my  week's  in 
dulgence  of  a  truant  disposition.  Bitter  though  such  a 
visitation  may  be,  it  is  no  provocative  of  appetite — and 
I  took  the  precaution  to  drop  into  an  eating-house,  thus 
to  take  my  wife's  lecture  upon  a  full  stomach.  The 
curtain  drawn  upon  me,  I  was  too  busy  for  a  few  mo 
ments  to  notice  any  thing  out  of  the  four  feet  square 
box  in  which  I  was  discussing  a  pretty  substantial  sup 
per.  Presently,  appetite  somewhat  appeased,  I  became 
less  occupied  in  creature  comfort,  and  listened  to  the 
conversation  of  two  persons  from  whom  I  was  divided 
by  the  low  partition. 

"  He  must  have  been  intemperate." 

"  No,  he  was  not." 

"  In  debt,  then." 


SIR,    A    SECRET!  203 

"  No,  I  was  well  acquainted  with  him." 

And  I  knew  that  voice,  but  I  could  not  immediately 
recollect  whose  it  was.  He  proceeded. 

"  I  was  well  acquainted  with  him.  He  was  remark 
ably  economical — prudent  to  a  fault,  yet  very  benevo 
lent — acutely  sensible  to  the  sufferings  of  the  unfortu 
nate  about  him — very  sensitive — yearning  for  sympathy 
in  his  sombre  moods,  and  always  anxious  to  impart  his 
pleasure  to  those  about  him.  He  would  deny  a  friend, 
or  even  a  mere  acquaintance,  nothing." 

My  picture  to  the  life,  thought  I,  as  I  nibbled  at  the 
last  fragment  of  flesh  on  a  drumstick.  Hope  my  good 
feelings  will  never  lead  me  to  suicide.  Paid  my  scot 
and  exit,  just  as  the  eulogist  of  the  dead  emerged  from 
his  cell. 

When  I  reached Street,  a  crowd  were  turn 
ing  into  it.  I  joined  the  tail  of  the  throng,  and  hearing 
discourse  upon  the  universal  topic,  the  suicide,  won 
dered  which  of  my  neighbors  it  was,  and  wished  I  had 
staid  at  Lowell  until,  at  least,  "  seven  of  the  nine  days 
of  wonder"  had  passed  over.  But,  thought  I,  out  of 
evil  good  may  come — and,  upon  the  whole,  I  am  glad 
he  lived  in  this  street.  My  wife,  from  the  circumstance, 
may  be  acquainted  with  his  family,  and  there  will,  of 
course,  be  a  diversion  of  her  attention  from  my  delin 
quencies.  Wonder  if  she  has  heard  of  it  ?  If  not, 
such  a  delightfully  interesting  and  authentic  piece  of 
news  will  be  an  excellent  peace-oifering.  So  thinking, 
I  turned  down  a  court — scaled  two  or  three  fences,  and 
my  shins  to  boot — made  a  circuit,  and  reached  my  door 
before  the  crowd.  Took  out  my  key,  entered  the  hall, 
and  put  my  hand  upon  the  sitting-room  door,  which 


CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

stood  an  inch  ajar.  Unusual  noises  there,  made  me 
hesitate. 

"  Will  they  bring  him  home  to-night?"  sobbed  my 
rib — and  then  she  burst  into  a  fit  of  outrageous  weep 
ing,  which  would  have  prevented  the  possibility  of  her 
hearing,  had  a  reply  been  attempted — and  all  the  women, 
of  whom  I  supposed,  by  the  sound,  there  must  have 
been  a  dozen  at  least,  accompanied  her,  but  in  more  of 
a  dutiful,  regulated,  and  complaisant  pitch. 

Her  old  hysterics  again,  thought  I.  Hang  it,  but 
ehe's  too  compassionate — she  could  hardly  weep  with  a 
better  relish  for  myself.  A  tap  on  the  outer  door — and 
as  I  looked  out  at  the  side-lights,  I  saw  the  whole  posse 
of  charitable  neighbors,  idlers,  and  others,  who  upon 
any  mournful  occasion  crowd  themselves  forward,  solely 
because  they  presume  that  nobody  at  such  a  time  will 
have  the  nerve  to  kick  them  back.  One  of  the  women 
brushed  by  me  to  open  the  door — in  walked  a  clergy 
man  as  pioneer — then  there  was  a  rush  of  some  half 
dozen  of  the  crowd — then  came  a  coffin.  I  stopped 
for  no  more,  but  bolted  for  the  kitchen  stairs.  At  the 
head  stood  the  only  member  of  my  kitchen  cabinet — a 
dusky  wench,  who,  the  moment  I  came  near  enough 
for  the  light  of  the  lamp  she  held  to  fall  on  my  features, 
set  up  a  howl,  and  rolled  down  the  flight  backward. 
She  hardly  touched  the  floor,  but  bounded  up  again, 
and  made  her  escape  at  a  back  window,  taking  the  sash 
with  her,  to  be  sure  of  an  aperture  to  creep  in  at,  on 
her  return. 

I  began  to  have  my  misgivings,  and  sat  down  in  the 
kitchen  to  consult  with  myself  how  to  act  in  the  di 
lemma.  A  man  descended  the  stairs. 


SIR,    A    SECRET!  205 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  whose  body  they  have  brought 
to  the  house  ?" 

"  Yes — it  will  kill  his  wife — takes  on  shockingly." 

"But  who  was  he?" 

"  Who?" 

«  Yes  !— who  ?" 

"  Beautiful  family — pity  it  was  so  broken  up — " 

<l  Will  you  tell  me  who  is  the  drowned  man,  or  not?" 

"  Why,  don't  you  know?" 

I  caught  up  the  tongs. 

"  It's  Mr  Albert  Easy — and  I  expect  I'll  have  to 
make  a  coffin  for  his  wife  too — poor  woman." 

"  Upon  my  honor,  my  friends  have  done  well,  to 
drown  and  make  preparations  to  bury  me,  without  my 
knowledge !" 

Through  the  Reverend  Pastor,  my  wife  was  apprised 
of  my  actual  existence,  the  coffin  and  the  corpse  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding — through  the  care  of  the 
family  physician,  she  escaped  death  from  the  surprise 
— and  through  the  grief  I  had  given  her,  and  the  joy 
sequent  upon  its  removal,  I  escaped  upbraiding.  The 
clothes  the  defunct  wore  were  once  mine — that  was  a 
fact ;  but  I  had  made  him  a  present  of  them  but  a  week 
before,  without  my  wife's  knowledge — for,  in  all  such 
disposals  of  property,  I  have  found  it  safe  to  consider 
her  my  left  hand,  and  to  obey  the  scripture  injunction, 
not  to  let  the  left  hand  know  what  the  right  hand  doeth. 
The  corpse  removed  to  a  city  building,  I  hasted  to  find 
Burley  ;  detailed  the  whole  affair,  and  ended  by  telling 
him  I  held  him  guilty. 

"How?" 

"  You  persuaded  me  off,  and  would  not  even  hear  of 
my  notifying  my  family  of  the  journey." 
18 


206  CORRECTED     PROOFS, 

"  I  expected  to  return  the  same  day  ;  but,  young 
man,  I  shall,  for  what  you  have  suffered,  in  your  own 
person  and  in  that  of  your  wife,  you  twain  being  one 
flesh,  amply  compensate  you." 

"  I  won't  hear  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Yes,  but  you  will ;  it  costs  me  nothing,  and  will 
vastly  benefit  you.  I  shall  impart  you  a  secret." 

I  stood  all  attent,  thinking  I  was  about  to  hear  of  an 
anticipated  rise  or  fall  of  some  stock,  or  of  some  other 
mode  of  making  money,  known  only  to  the  knowing 
ones. 

"  During  my  acquaintance  with  you,  I  have  discov 
ered  your  entire  ignorance  of  one  of  the  most  simple 
but  useful  things  in  the  world ;  nay,  it  is  indispensable 
to  prosperity,  and  would  have  saved  you  the  whole  of 
your  late  vexation,  if  put  in  exercise  when  I  asked  you 
to  leave  the  city  unprepared." 

"Well,  and  what  is  it?" 

"  The  monosyllable  NO,  oftener  necessary  for  your 
friends  than  your  enemies.  The  latter,  knowing  and 
suspecting  that  you  know  the  relation  in  which  you 
mutually  stand,  seldom  give  you  opportunity  to  deny 
them  any  thing  ;  but  friends  do,  every  day.  Stop  and 
sup  with  me,  and " 

"  NO  /" 


LIFE      OF     A     PEDAGOGUE.  207 


A    LEAF    FROM    THE    LIFE    OF    A 
PEDAGOGUE. 

THAT  Thomson's  view  of  the  duty  of  a  teacher  is  not 
corroborated  by  all  experience,  any  unfortunate  usher 
to  the  Temple  of  Science,  who  may  chance  to  read  this, 
will  bear  me  witness.  Delightful  indeed  !  to  teach 
that  "  young  idea  how  to  shoot,"  whose  first  shot,  after 
the  filial  disobedience  to  parents,  which  comes  of  course, 
is  a  shot  at  the  preceptor !  Delightful,  indeed,  to  com 
bat  the  wayward  wickedness  of  the  child,  and  the  thou 
sand  and  one  whims  of  the  mother — to  bear  with  the 
troublesome  and  impertinent  interference  of  friends  and 
parents,  or,  as  is  sometimes  t-he  case,  to  know  that  they, 
the  natural  guardians  of  a  child,  do  not  trouble  them 
selves  to  remember  even  the  name  of  him  upon  whom 
they  have  shifted,  from  their  own  shoulders,  nine  tenths 
of  the  trouble  of  managing  their  refractory  sons  and 
daughters !  To  travel,  day  and  day  over,  the  same 
dull  road,  every  feature  of  which  is  uninteresting,  and 
doubly  dull  by  repetition — your  path  cheered  by  the  re 
flection,  that  the  young  rebels  you  are  striving  to  induct 
into  the  mysteries  of  orthography,  etymology,  syntax, 
and  prosody,  are  as  undisguisedly  indifferent  to  your 
teachings  as  you  are,  at  your  heart,  in  bestowing  them. 
You  affect  an  interest — they  are  at  no  pains  to  do  it ; 
for  children  are  never  hypocrites,  except  in  view  of  a 
flogging.  And  if  there  be  in  the  intellectual  waste  a 
patch  or  two  of  ground  upon  which  the  seed  is  not 


208  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

thrown  away,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  luckless  in 
structor.  What  is  the  merit  of  the  industrious  scholar, 
is,  in  the  eyes  of  the  mothers  of  dolts,  the  fault  of  the 
teacher.  He  is  partite! — else  there  could  possibly  be 
no  difference  in  his  pupils  ;  application,  natural  aptness 
to  learn,  are  nothing. 

A  schoolmaster  may  be  detected  in  five  minutes' 
conversation.  While  silent  he  may  be  mistaken  for  a 
poet, — either  looking  stark  mad,  "  his  eyes  in  a  fine 
phrenzy  rolling," — tripping  alone  in  childish  glee,  as  if 
glad  as  his  scholars  of  an  escape  from  confinement — or 
lounging  along,  all  wan  and  wo-begone,  as  if  just  left 
at  loose  ends  by  the  flight  of  a  fit  of  inspiration.  Speak 
to  him,  and  you  recal  him  from  his  abstraction  ;  he  as 
sumes  a  magisterial  air,  and  in  the  tone  of  his  answer 
there  is  a  savor  of  the  dignity  with  which  he  is  wont  to 
preside  in  his  little  kingdom.  This,  to  be  sure,  soon 
wears  off,  if  he  is  not  a  mere  machine  for  drilling 
a-b-abs  into  obtuse  pates — the  man  shines  through  the 
formal  exterior  of  the  pedagogue.  Glorious  men,  too, 
are  often  to  be  met  under  that  mask.  It  is  worth  lift 
ing,  though  nine  in  ten  never  see  any  thing  but  "  the 
master." 

John  Philpot  Curran,  when  war  was  first  waged 
against  the  big  wigs  of  the  barristers,  declared  he  was 
a  non-entity  without  his  wig.  So  would  be  schoolmas 
ters,  were  it  possible  to  strip  them  of  the  little  peculiar 
ities  which  have  been  theirs  ever  since,  and  long  be 
fore  Dr  Parr  taught  the  rising  generations  under  the 
reigns  of  three  kings. — (Was  it  longer  ?) — Who  would 
strip  them  ?  Divested  of  all  the  little  incidentals  which 
go  to  constitute  their  insignia,  and  mark  them  peda 
gogues,  they  were  pedagogues  no  longer.  Men  of 


LIFE     OF     A     PEDAGOGUE.  209 

America — women  are  all  Conservatives — men  of  Amer 
ica,  if  you  are  not  all  Reformers,  if  there  be  any  con 
servative  spirit  left  among  you,  protect  the  prerogative  of 
the  schoolmasters.  Let  not  one  inch  of  the  ferule  be 
abated — one  iota  of  their  dignity  be  called  in  question. 

Honor  the  teacher,  for  his  office  is  thankless  and 
profitless  enough  to  deserve  at  least  the  reward  of  empty 
respect.  "  Poor,  paltry  ten  dollar  note!"  soliloquized 
a  worthy  member  of  the  fraternity;  "  poor  paltry  ten 
dollar  note  !  thou  art  the  saving  of  a  twelvemonth — 
the  remnant  of  four  quarterly  stipends,  redeemed  with 
anxious  and  penurious  care  from  the  usurious  grasp  of 
the  tradesman  ;  shall  I  sentence  thee  to  solitary  con 
finement,  till  another  annual  round  shall  provide  thee  a 
fellow-prisoner?  Poor,  paltry  ten  dollars!" 

"  A  bundle  for  the  master  !  a  bundle  for  the  master  !" 
and  two  of  his  daily  torments,  proud  of  a  commission 
which  sent  them  into  the  very  sanctum  of  their  awe- 
inspiring  instructor,  burst  into  the  room.  With  the 
intuitive  capacity  for  reading  faces,  which  children 
possess,  they  saw  their  intrusion  was  unwelcome,  and 
decamped. 

Our  hero's  name  was — no  matter.  He  did  not  always 
move  in  the  useful,  but  obscure  sphere  of  a  teacher  of 
youth,  and  although 

He  is  dead,  and  buried,  and  embalmed, 

yet,  as  the  latter  process  is  done  in  octavo,  with  boards, 
and  an  outer  covering  of  kid,  or  cambric,  or  green 
baize,  for  a  sarcophagus,  many  a  pair  of  old  ladies' 
spectacles  would  rise  with  horror  at  the  irreverent  anec 
dote  of  one,  who,  if  he  is  not  canonized,  is  the  subject 
18* 


CORRECTED      V ROOFS. 

of  a  volume  of  biography  ;  and  that  amounts  to  the  same 
thing  in  our  part  of  the  world. 

The  urchins  had  scarce  left  the  chamber,  ere  their 
teacher  followed.  He  probably  owed  the  stairs  no 
grudge  ;  though  the  iron-shod  heels  of  his  multipatched 
boots  struck  each  step  fiercely.  Now  he  is  hurrying  up 
the  street,  and  across  the  common,  which,  in  all  country 
towns,  surrounds  the  "  meetinghouse."  His  tap  at  the 
pastor's  door  is  more  than  a  double  knock  ;  he  has  called 
out  the  grey-haired  preacher,  and  while  his  bow  legs 
tremble  under  him,  and  his  arms  furiously  fly  to  eluci 
date  his  enunciation,  he  delivers  a  message.  Now  he 
i*  off  again,  and  at  the  door  of  each  of  the  school-com 
mittee  a  similar  scene  is  enacted.  He  returns,  but  the 
phrenzy  of  passion  which  nerved  and  invigorated  him  a 
moment  since  has  left  him  ;  his  pace  is  more  sedate, 
and  in  his  care-worn  countenance  are  visible,  the  traces 
of  more  than  one  tear.  The  whole  man  is  exhausted  ; 
he  drags  the  weary  weight  of  his  boots  up  stairs,  locks 
his  door  after  trim,  and  the  house  jars  with  the  shock 
with  which  he  throws  his  weight  into  his  big  arm-chair. 
What  can  be  the  matter  ? 

The  minister  and  the  school-committee,  one,  two, 
three,  are  coming  across  the  green,  to  answer  the  sum 
mons.  Upon  entering  the  chamber,  even  the  gravity  of 
the  pastor  is  insufficient  for  the  occasion,  and  the  others, 
less  scrupulous,  laugh  outright.  There  lay  a  pair  of 
cast — pantaloons  had  not  become  common  in  those  days 
— here  a  broad-flapped  waistcoat,  mended  like  Pat's 
jackknife,  till  scarce  a  thread  rsmains  of  the  original 
garment — with  divers  other  articles  of  men's  attire,  con 
sorted,  and  kept  in  countenance,  by  the  corresponding 
articles  of  woman's  apparel ;  and — horror  of  horrors  ! — 


LIFE     OF     A     PEDAGOGUE.  211 

there  are  not  lacking  in  the  melee  even  garments  of 
juvenile  proportions.  To  fill  up  the  collection,  papers  of 
snuff,  of  tea,  of  tobacco,  two  pipes  carefully  wrapped  in 
an  infant's  pin-afore,  a  jug  of  treacle,  another  of  New 
England  nectar,  a  paper  of  -sugar,  and  an  ounce  of  pins 
are  interspersed  among  the  pieces  of  raiment  which  lay 
about  the  room,  in  admirable  disorder. 

The  preacher  is  first  to  break  silence.  "  What  means 
this  medley  1  " 

"  This,"  said  the  Dominie,  his  speech  interrupted  by 
sobs,  "is  a  trick  of  the  children  of  this  wicked  and 
perverse  generation,  upon  their  instructor." 

"  Who  are  the  offenders  I  " 

"  I  cannot  say.  As  many  of  the  studious  are  wont, 
I  was  lost  in  abstraction  when  the  turbulents  entered, 
and  I  took  no  note  of  their  countenances.  But  I  will 
put  the  whole  school  to  the  rack — I  will  administer  the 
torture  to  them  till  they  confess ;  yea,  I  will  visit  them 
with  condign  punishment." 

"  No,  no,  Mr !  " 

"  What  then  ?  Shall  I  be  insulted  with  impunity, 
and  my  authority  become  a  by-word  ?  Shall — " 

"  Wait  patiently  ;  wait,  and  the  culprits  will  reveal 
themselves.  Meanwhile,  the  garments  will  make  an 
acceptable  present  to  some  poor  family." 

"  Never,  never!  "  roared  the  Dominie,  his  paroxysm 
returning..  "  Never  shall  my  shame  minister  even  to 
the  comfort  of  the  destitute  !  "  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
seized  the  first  article  from  the  luckless  parcel,  which 
came  to  hand,  and  rent  it  to  tatters,  stamping  furiously 
the  while,  and  gnashing  his  teeth.  His  visiters  sat  in 
ill-subdued  laughter  at  his  frantic  gestures  and  incoher 
ent^  expressions.  At  length  he  got  hold  of  the  buckskin 


si -2 


CORRECTED        PROOFS. 


pantaloon?,  and  tugged  away  upon  them  in  his  impotent 
wrath. 

"  Thou  lackest  not  the  activity  of  Sampson,  but  thou 
hast  not  the  strength  with  which  he  rent  the  young  lion." 

Awful  sacrilege  !  The  obdurate  garment  was  des 
patched  direct  at  the  preacher's  head !  The  jug  of 
treacle  was  next  immolated  upon  the  hearth,  the  nectar 
followed,  the  tea  was  scattered  about  the  floor,  the  sugar 
and  tobacco  were  alike  distributed,  the  pipes  he  broke 
into  inch  pieces,  and  tore  the  pin-afore  to  shreds  with 
his  teeth.  His  visiters  had  by  this  time  retreated  to  the 
entry.  One  package  alone  remained — looking  about 
him,  like  another  Alexander,  for  another  world  to  con 
quer,  he  saw  and  seized  it — grasped  it  in  both  hands, 
and,  twisting  it,  a  howl  of  pain  announced  the  escape  of 
the  subtle  contents — his  eyes  were  filled  with  snuff! 

He  sank  back  in  his  chair,  exhausted  with  the  ebul 
litions  of  his  rage,  and  in  an  agony  of  torture.  His 
friends  hastened  with  water,  and  other  appliances,  to 
relieve  him  of  his  misery.  When  he  opened  his  eyes, 
another  figure  was  added  to  the  group,  a  poor  woman, 
his  laundress,  who  with  many  tears,  was  bemoaning  the 
wreck. 

"  What  ails  thee  woman  ?  "  said  the  Dominie. 

"  Why,"  said  the  preacher,  "  the  bundle  upon  which 
you  have  disgraced  and  unmanned  yourself  was  hers,  a 
present  to  her  from  her  daughter  at  service — it  was 
brought  you  by  mistake,  your  name  happening  to  be  like 
her  goodman's." 

The  pedagogue's  head  was  bowed  do\vn  in  sorrow, 
repentance,  and  contrition  of  spirit.  But  his  repentance 
brought  forth  good  fruit.  "  There,"  said  he,  tendering 


DREAMS.  213 

her  the  poor,  paltry  ten  dollars,  "  let  that  be  the  repar 
ation  and  purchase  thy  secresy." 

It  was  an  ample  atonement,  and  the  evident  grief  and 
self-abasement  of  the  teacher  induced  the  other  witnesses 

to  silence.     During  his   abode   in ,  the  adventure 

of  the  bundle  never  was  reported  against  him ;  and  when, 
in  after  years,  he  became  less  sensitive  upon  it,  though 
he  often  told  the  story  as  a  warning  against  the  indul 
gence  of  anger,  he  was  careful  to  speak  of  the  hero  of 
it  as  of  a  particular  friend,  whose  name  he  concealed 
from  motives  of  delicacy. 


D  R  E  A  M  S  . 

OXE  of  the  most  curious  features  of  life  asleep,  is  the 
utter  disregard  of  the  measure  of  time.  Abercrombie 
quotes  some  instances.  A  person  dreamed  he  came  to 
America  from  England,  spent  a  fortnight  here,  and  nar 
rowly  escaped  drowning  on  his  return  passage.  The 
fright  awoke  him,  and  he  found  he  had  been  asleep — 
ten  minutes.  Dreams  in  which  an  actual  noise  bears  a 
part,  take  place  after  the  alarm,  though  that  is,  appar 
ently,  the  end  of  the  dream — as  thus  :  if  a  person  dream 
of  an  earthquake,  and,  upon  waking,  find  the  noise  has 
actually  occurred,  as  is  always  the  case,  it  is  satisfacto 
rily  proved  that  the  whole  story  of  the  earthquake  takes 
place  in  the  mind  after  hearing  the  noise,  though  that 
appears  the  catastrophe  of  the  dream,  and  is  the  last 
thing  remembered  in  reviewing  it. 


214 


CORRECTED        PROOFS. 


THE    MAIDEN    AUNT. 

IT  is  not  in  large  cities,  in  the  filthy  streets  which  are 
the  chosen  residences  of  sailor-landlords,  and  on  crowded 
and  noisy  quays,  that  the  American  sailor  on  shore  is 
to  be  seen  in  his  true  character.  In  cities,  the  neglect 
of  the  better  portion  of  the  community  has  led  Jack  to 
turn  away  from  the  respectable,  as  from  people  who 
slight  him ;  and  has  induced  him  to  embrace  the  ready 
and  rapacious  friendship  of  landlords,  shipping-masters, 
and  people  of  an  equivocal  character.  But  go  to  the 
nurseries  of  seamen,  to  the  small  towns  which  dot  our 
coast — where  Jack  has  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  arid 
acquaintances,  among  whom  his  arduous  calling  is  es 
teemed  almost  the  only  occupation  worthy  of  manhood, 
there,  "  Richard  is  himself."  As  in  other  times  the 
soldier  was  the  only  successful  applicant  for  the  hand 
of  fair  ladye,  in  these  small  maratime  towns,  it  is  the 
sailor — "  none  but  the  tar  deserves  the  fair  !  "  A  tar 
paulin  hat  purchases  more  respect  than  a  plumed  helmet 
— and  the  two-inch  ribbon  upon  it  is  a  better  passport 
to  favor,  than  are  the  decorations  of  any  order  of  nobility. 
Jack  at  home  is  not  the  noisy  roystering  dog — indiffer 
ent  to  good  or  ill  opinion,  that  you  see  him  in  the  city, 
but  feeling  his  dignity,  the  respected  and  the  courted, 
he  carries  a  high  head  and  an  independent. 

Now  for  the  principal  personages  in  our  tale.  As  all 
a  sailor's  ideas  of  comfort  on  shore  are  associated  with 
motion — on  foot,  on  horse-back,  or  in  a  tandem,  we  shall 
introduce  you  to  them  in  the  street.  Jack's  hat  describes 


THE      MAIDEN      AUNT.  215 

forty-five  degrees  of  a  circle,  as  it  touches  the  cottage- 
bonnet  of  the  lady  on  his  arm,  and  then  is  carried  away, 
by  the  sway  of  his  body,  to  such  a  distance  opposite, 
that  you  half  imagine  the  wearer  is  about  to  fall  prostrate. 
In  person,  he  is  below  the  middle  size — he  might  have 
been  above — but,  as  an  iron  case  prevents  a  Chinese 
lady's  foot  from  growing  to  its  fair  proportion,  the  stinted 
accommodations  of  a  ship's  forecastle  have  taught  Jack's 
body  to  conform  in  altitude  to  its  ocean  home.  His 
dress  is  the  everlasting  navy  blue,  his  hat  a  carefully 
brushed  beaver — for  on  state  occasions  like  this,  the  tar 
paulin  is  laid  aside — pantaloons,  of  amplitude  sufficient 
for  three  fashionable  pairs,  a  frock-coat,  and  gMgerbread 
worked  vest,  half  concealed  by  the  enormous  HfBng  ends 
of  a  black  silk  neck-cloth.  Pumps,  with  a  yard  df  ribbon 
in  each  latchet,  complete  his  equipments.  His  intelli 
gent  face  has  been  bronzed  by  the  suns  of  Ind ;  in  his 
ears  are  a  pair  of  plain  gold  rings,  and  his  fingers  are 
as  faithfully  hooped  as  a  liquor  cask.  His  present  study 
seems  to  be,  so  to  demean  himself  as  to  appear  uncon 
scious  of  the  proximity  of  any  thing  feminine — an  air 
assumed  in  contradistinction  to  the  behavior  of  a  lands 
man,  who,  in  the  same  situation,  would,  by  thrusting 
his  head  under  the  lady's  bonnet,  and  making  smirks 
and  grimaces,  lead  an  observer  to  imagine  him  uncon 
scious  of  the  presence  of  any  save  his  Dulcinea.  Jack 
affects  an  indifference  which  he  does  not  feel — Bucky 
assumes  the  appearance  of  an  attachment  of  which  he 
hardly  possesses  the  shadow. 

We  would  not  for  our  right  hand  slight  the  lady — 
but  as  we  cannot  always  muster  impudence  to  stare  in 
tently  enough  to  be  able  to  describe  female  beauty,  like 
a  painter,  if  the  portrait  is  not  a  good  one  it  is  not  her 


21G  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

fault,  but  ours.  She  has  too  much  of  the  girl,  to  be 
styled  a  woman,  and  yet  there  is  something  in  that  face, 
which  would  seem  to  convey  mute  reproof,  did  you  pro 
nounce  her  a  girl.  A  profusion  of  jet  black  curls  relieves 
the  shade  of  a  complexion  which  approaches  very  near 
that  of  a  brunette — and  when  those  curls  slide  too  un 
comfortably  near  her  "  bonnie  black  eyne,"  there  is 
something  in  the  toss  of  her  head  as  she  shakes  them 
back,  which  seems  to  say  she  would  shake  you  off'  as 
promptly  and  as  decisively,  if  you  put  her  to  the  trial. 
There  is  a  latent  roguish  leer  in  her  velvet  black  eye, 
which  attracts  and  repulses  at  the  same  moment — and, 
with  the  compressed  lip,  and  other  demi-demure  features 
of  her  face,  it  altogether  forms  a  riddle,  upon  which,  if 
one  dared,  he  would  delight  long  to  gaze.  Her  form  is 
neither  gross  nor  ethereal — you  cannot  swear  that  she  is 
an  angel — and  will  not  aver  that  she  is  not.  Is  the  des- 

o 

cription  too  romantic  ?  We  will  dash  the  romance  with 
a  name — her  name — it  was  Achsah  Nelson.  Of  a  truth 
our  puritan  fathers  delighted  in  saddling  Hebrew  names 
upon  their  children. 

They  have  strolled  to  the  beach — Mackenzie,  with 
his  hands  in  his  beckets,  is  resting  his  broad  back  against 
a  high  rock.  A  few  feet  in  front  of  him,  his  gypsey, 
.perched  upon  a  ridge  of  pebbles  thrown  up  by  the  surf, 
is,  with  finger  elevated,  giving  him  a  taste  of  matrimony 
in  advance,  in  the  shape  of  a  lecture  admonitory.  An 
opinion  is  entertained  by  some  uncharitable  people,  that 
those  who  give  good  advice,  and  then  caution  the  re 
cipient  of  his  liability  to  neglect  it,  talk,  in  part,  from 
experience. 

"  Now,  John,  you  must  never  be  jealous  of  me.  But 
I  know  you  will !  " 


THE      MAIDEN      AUNT.  217 

How  the  deuce  should  she  know  that? 

*  *  #  #  *  * 

On  the  morrow,  Mackenzie  went  to  sea.  It  could 
never  be  ascertained  whether  Achsah  wept  at  his  de 
parture,  or  not — for  she  is  one  of  those  persons,  who, 
when  they  weep,  do  it  for  their  own  sole  amusement, 
and  carefully  exclude  all  others  from  participation  in  an 
employment  so  agreeable.  If  Mackenzie  had  broken 
his  chains  before  leaving  her,  he  never  would  have  known 
whether  or  not  she  cared  a  copper  about  it — and  nobody 
knew  whether  the  engagement  between  our  sailor  and 
his  ladye  love  was  merely  in  the  stage  premonitory,  or 
a  settled  thing — except  themselves.  There  are  some 
few  women  in  the  world,  who  do  not  make  confidants 
of  all  their  acquaintances.  Achsah  had  read  more  chap 
ters  in  the  Bible  than  pages  of  romance — the  more  the 
pity,  for  the  interest  of  this  history — for  we  never  could 
learn  that  she  went  even  once  alone  to  the  sea-shore, 
to  sit  and  imagine  her  true  love's  course  upon  the  track 
less  deep — nor  that  she  sat  a  single  hour,  by  moonlight 
on  a  rock,  watching  the  spot  where  she  lost  sight  of  the 
speck,  into  which  the  "  majestic  vessel  dwindled  in  the 
distance."  We  have  also  sought  in  vain  for  some  inter 
esting  record  of  the  events  of  Mackenzie's  passage,  but 
find  only  such  memoranda  as  the  following  : 

"OK.  4  F.  Course,  S.  S.  W.  Wind,  N.  Light 
squalls,  with  rain." 

****** 

The  view  of  Valparaiso  from  the  bay  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world.  To  the  right,  it  seems  as 
if  the  Andes  had  made  a  stride  quite  to  the  sea-shore. 
Bluff  hills,  rising  in  almost  artificial  uniformity,  one 

above  another — the  first  of  the  range  having  only  a  nar- 
19 


218  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

row  beach  between  its  base  and  the  water — are  studded 
with  white  cottages  with  red  tiled  roofs.  At  the  foot  of 
these  hills,  stands  the  fort,  under  the  guns  of  which  the 
Essex  was  captured  during  the  second  war  with  Britain, 
in  defiance  of  the  law  of  nations.  To  the  left,  the  bases 
of  the  hills  are  farther  removed  from  the  water,  and 
here  the  principal  part  of  the  town  is  built — standing 
out  in  beautiful  and  bold  relief,  from  the  dark  back 
ground  formed  by  the  mountains.  The  semi-circular 
shore  of  the  bay  is  entirely  free  of  rocks,  except  in  one 
place,  for  the  greater  part  of  its  extent.  The  harbor  is 
open  to  the  Northerly  storms  which  visit  it  in  the  winter, 
and  it  would  seem  that  Nature  had,  in  forming  the  port, 
made  the  level  beach,  as  a  comparatively  easy  pillow, 
on  which  to  lay  the  vessels,  which,  at  that  season,  drift 
from  their  moorings.  The  single  ledge  of  rocks  above 
alluded  to,  is  by  sailors  called  Cape  Horn,  from  a  real 
or  fancied  resemblance. 

As  the  vessel  to  which  Mackenzie  belonged  was  to 
lay  some  weeks  at  Valparaiso,  the  master  took  the  oppor 
tunity  thoroughly  to  overhaul  and  repair  her  rigging. 
Every  spar  on  board  was  sent  down,  and  nothing  left 
standing  but  her  naked  lower  masts.  While  the  ship 
was  thus  stripped,  the  first  "  Norther,"  for  the  Winter  of 
18 —  came  on.  Despite  of  every  exertion  to  strengthen 
her  moorings,  she  drifted.  The  cables  were  payed  out 
to  the  last  inch,  but  long  scope  or  short  was  alike  inef 
fectual  to  prevent  her  drifting  ashore.  To  add  horror 
to  their  danger,  Cape  Horn,  the  only  spot  from  which 
they  might  not  hope  to  escape  alive,  was  the  point  to 
which  they  were  rapidly  driven.  Had  it  been  possible 
to  hoist  a  jib  or  staysail,  they  might  have  run  her  upon 
the  beach — but  in  less  time  than  is  occupied  in  relating, 


THE     MAIDEN      AUNT.  219 

the  helpless  vessel  was  driven  upon  the  rocks,  and  in 
sight  of  thousands  upon  shore,  but  out  of  the  reach  of 
their  assistance,  all  on  board  perished — dashed  to  death 
among  the  rocks,  or  drowned  on  board.  Before  the 
danger  became  imminent,  her  launch  had  parted  its 
painter  and  drifted  ashore,  and  the  only  two  persons 
who  escaped,  were  absent  with  the  other  boat.  Of  these 
two,  one  was  Mackenzie.  He  could,  from  the  shore, 
see  the  supplicating  attitudes  of  his  friends  on  board, 
but  to  reach  them  was  utterly  impossible — though  he 
did  not  abandon  his  attempts  till  the  boat  was  swamped, 
and  himself  and  his  companion  dragged  insensible  from 
the  surf. 

On  the  morning  following,  Mackenzie  stood  on  the 
beach.  The  sun  was  bright,  as  if  its  lustre  had  never 
been  dimmed  by  storm — the  bay  as  placid  as  if  its  sur 
face  had  never  been  ruffled.  A  busy  crowd  were  picking 
up  the  fragments  of  the  vessel  and  her  cargo,  which  had 
drifted  ashore ;  and  under  an  awning  made  of  an  old 
sail,  the  remains  of  his  perished  comrades  were  lying. 
His  little  all  of  property  had  been  destroyed  with  the 
ship — he  was  friendless,  in  a  strange  land,  and  among 
a  strange  people.  Did  he  despair  ? — No.  He  thought 
of  his  home  as  a  refuge  he  should  one  day  reach,  and 
the  one  bright  particular  star  of  that  Heaven  on  earth, 
beamed  encouragingly  and  mildly  bright  upon  his  heart, 
in  his  desolate  situation.  It  whispered  Hope. 

###**# 

Mackenzie  shipped  on  board  an  American  vessel, 
and  was  "homeward  bound."  Bright  dreams  of  future 
happiness  flitted  before  his  mental  vision,  and  though  he 
was  destitute,  he  thanked  God,  with  the  ready  philoso 
phy  of  a  sailor,  that  life  was  spared,  and  entered  upon 


220  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

his  duty  with  as  much  cheerfulness,  as  if  he  had  never 
known  adverse  fortune.  One  day  a  letter  was  handed 
him  from  home,  which,  addressed  to  the  care  of  the 
Consul,  had  found  its  way  more  directly  than  such 
messengers  usually  travel  from  Maine  to  Georgia.  He 
glanced  at  the  signature,  and  bounded  into  the  fore-top, 
to  enjoy  it  alone. 

" '  Dear  John — I  take  my  pen  in  hand,  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  in  good  health,  and  hope  these  few  lines  find 
you  enjoying  the  same  blessing.  My  niece  is  well,  but 
would  not  write.'  " 

"  An  old  fashioned  beginning,  any  how.  Her  niece, 
let's  see — about  knee-high  to  a  toad.  Who  wants  her 
to  write  1 " 

"  '  So  I  write  myself,  but  she  says  I  may  send  love."  ' 

"  She's  very  good,  and  I  hope  she'll  not  miss  it." 

"  '  At  my  age,  John,  you  may  think  me  foolish  to  talk 
of  marriage — '  " 

"  Don't  fret  about  that.  I  don't  see  what  ails  her  age, 
though — she's  old  enough." 

" '  Mr  Hartley  has  long  been  pressing  in  his  atten 
tions—'  " 

"  An  old  scoundrel !  " 

"'  And  I  have  at  last  consented  to  marry  him.'  " 

"The  devil  you  have  !"  roared  Jack,  as  he  crushed 
the  letter  in  his  hand.  After  a  moment  or  two,  he  be 
came  partially  calmed,  and  carefully  spread  the  letter 
open  again. 

" '  I  am  convinced  it  will  be  for  the  interest  of  my 
niece — '  " 

"  D — n  your  niece  !  " 

"  '  I  shall  be  married  before  your  return,  therefore  this 
is  the  last  from  ACHSAH  NELSON.'  " 


THE     MAIDEN      AUNT.  221 

Jack  crushed  the  obnoxious  letter  again,  and  tossed 
it  into  the  sea — demanded  his  discharge — was  refused — 
and  ran  away.  Application  was  made  to  the  authori 
ties,  and  the  town  searched  for  the  fugitive,  to  no  purpose. 
At  length  he  was  overtaken  in  the  mule  path  to  Santi 
ago,  brought  back,  and  lodged,  till  the  vessel  should 
be  ready  to  sail,  in  a  comfortable  place,  called  in  the 
vernacular  of  that  region,  the  Calabozo,  Anglice,  Jail. 
****** 

In  a  small  but  tidy  room  in  a  house  in ,  our  friend 

Jack  Mackenzie  was  seated  with  two  ladies,  a  few  weeks 
after  his  return  from  Valparaiso.  The  younger  is  Ach 
sah — the  elder,  she,  who  when  Jack  was  last  at  home, 
was  her  MAIDEN  AUNT — she  to  whom  Achsah  was  in 
debted  for  her  euphoneous  appellative.  It  would  be  dif 
ficult  now  to  confound  the  names  of  the  two,  inasmuch 
as  the  one  is  Mrs  Achsah  Hartley,  widow  of  the  late 
Mr  John  Hartley  ;  the  other  Mrs  Achsah  Mackenzie. 
It  is  but  justice  to  the  Maiden  Aunt,  to  state,  that  not 
even  love  for  her  niece  and  namesake,  would  have  tempted 
her  into  matrimony  for  money ;  but  between  her  late 
husband  and  herself  there  had  been  in  early  youth  some 
symptoms  of  marriage — the  match  was  broken  off,  till 
in  the  autumn  of  their  lives,  the  ancient  turtles  decided 
to  pair. 

Having  brought  our  hero  into  safe  anchorage,  we  leave 
him,  first  explaining  to  the  reader  what  may  appear  in 
congruities.  When  an  opportunity  offered  to  send  a 
letter  to  Valparaiso,  Achsah  plumply  refused  to  write. 
If  she  could  have  written,  sealed,  and  despatched  the 
letter,  without  the  knowledge  of  any  living  soul,  she 
would  have  done  it ;  but  like  many  incomprehensible 

females  who  cloak  real  affection  under  pretended  indif- 
19* 


222  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

ference,  she  would  not  thus  tacitly  confess,  even  to  her 
aunt.  That  maiden  lady,  who,  at  sixty,  was  on  the  verge 
of  matrimony,  could  not  bear  that  true  love  like  Mac 
kenzie's  should  be  slighted  altogether,  and  therefore 
wrote  the  letter  which  put  our  hero  in  the  Calabozo. 
She  had  often  seen  Mackenzie,  and  had  he  been  as 
curious  about  the  ancient  spinster,  as  she  was  about 
him,  the  mistake  had  never  happened.  That  her  letter 
related  more  to  herself  than  her  niece,  we  have  seen. 
Can  we  wonder  at  that,  in  a  lady's  epistle,  who,  at  three 
score,  was  just  ready  to  be  married  for  the  first  time? 


BOOKS. 

"Wno  kills  a  man,"  says  Milton,  "  kills  a  reasonable 
creature — God's  image;  but  he  who  destroys  a  good 
book,  kills  Reason  itself."  Think  of  that,  confectioners, 
who  bake  pastry  under  stray  leaves  of  Milton,  and  en 
velope  "  kisses,"  in  fragments  of  "  A  Serious  Call." 
What  a  load  of  sin,  too,  sticks  to  the  fingers  of  the  trunk- 
maker,  who  makes  Captain  Cook's  Voyages  describe 
the  circuit  of  a  band-box,  and  the  problems  in  Euclid 
prove  the  distance  from  end  to  end  of  a  portmanteau. 


MUSIC     MAD.  223 


MUSIC    MAD. 

[The  following,  founded  on  the  popular  opera  "La  Sonnam- 
bula,"  it  was  at  first  the  author's  intention  to  omit — regarding  it 
&a  having  only  a  temporary  interest.  Upon  second  thoughts,  how- 
over,  it  appeared  to  him  that  if  "  Corrected  Proofs"  have  a  life 
coeval  with  La  Sonnarnbula,  the  book  will  be  read  as  long  as  the 
English  opera  exists — a  period  a  year  or  two  longer  than  he  dares 
to  predict  for  it. 

The  reader  will  perceive  that  the  lines  quoted  are  from  the 
opera. — While  about  making  explanations,  it  is  proper  to  ac 
knowledge  indebtedness  to  Mr  T.  S.  Fay,  for  the  suggestion  of 
the  following — taken  from  a  paper  of  his,  similar  in  design,  founded 
upon  the  opera  of  Cinderella.] 

THE  Woods  arc  gone — it  is  over  now,  the  opera  and 
the  uproar.  One  may  think  in  prose,  and  talk  without 
modulating  his  voice  to  a  recitative  ;  in  a  word,  be  sane 
without  being  unfashionable.  Some  there  are  still,  how 
ever,  in  whose  heads  the  clear  notes  of  Mr  and  Mrs 
Wood,  and  the  thorough  base  of  Mr  Brough  have  not 
yet  done  reverberating.  My  friend,  Theodore  Chro 
matic,  is  one  of  the  affected. 

I  lost  sight  of  him,  one  day  during  the  theatrical  visit 
of  the  Woods,  at  ten  o'clock,  P.  M.,  pursued  all  day, 
without  overtaking,  and  at  night  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him  going  into  the  Tremont  Theatre.  I  followed,  as 
soon  as  I  could,  by  pressing  in  ;  purchased  a  ticket,  and 
found  the  head  of  Theodore  Chromatic  framed  in  one 
of  the  apertures  in  the  box  doors,  affording  the  audience 
inside,  a  living  portrait  with  fixed  eyes.  I  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder — 


224  CORRECTED      PROOFS, 

"Is  it  cashed?" 

"  No,  it's  Brough." 

Dollars  and  cents — there  was  an  answer  !  The  fact 
is,  he  and  I  are  both  of  this  world,  and  who  in  the  world 
does  not  want  money  1  We  had  made  a  note  ;  he  was 
to  get  it  negociated  between  ten  and  two ;  two,  P.  M., 
is  a  witching  time  on  'change.  I  lost  sight  of  him,  as 
I  said  before,  and  looked  in  vain.  At  forty-five  minutes 
past  one,  desperate — furious,  I  commenced  shinning, 
and  saved  my  credit  at  the  bank  by  the  skin  of  my  con 
science — my  nominal  credit,  I  mean.  The  tellers  and 
two  or  three  of  the  directors  looked  awful  hard  and  in 
quiringly  at  the  big  drops  of  sweat  on  my  temples  in 
January.  The  fruits  of  that  sweat,  who  can  guess? 

To  return  to  Theodore.  I  touched  him  again.  He 
put  back  his  arm,  beating  time  as  he  deprecated  inter 
ruption  ;  but  I  persevered.  "  About  that  note?" 

"  It  is  certainly  as  low  as  E." 

Clap — thump — hurra  !  Theodore  Chromatic  smashed 
a  pannel  of  the  box-door. 

The  first  act  finished,  I  again  pushed  up  to  rny  friend. 
"  I  must  say,  you're  a  charming — " 

"  Charming  !  delightful  !"  Taking  a  cue,  away  he 
went — 

" '  As  I  view  now  these  scenes  so  charming, 
With  de;ir  remembrance  my  heart  warming, 
Of  days  long  vanished — O,  my  heart  is  filled  with  pain — '  " 

"  So  are  my  boots,"  said  I ;  "  both  my  feet  ache  ; 
I've  run — " 

"  RUN  !  I've  run  and  fought  too,  like  a  handcartman. 
Took  me  two  hours  to  get  a  ticket,  and  now  I'm  num 
ber  forty-three." 

"  But  about  business — " 


MUSIC     MAD.  225 

"  Business  !  she  does  it  delightfully.  Mrs  Wood  un 
derstands  stage  business — every  thing — actress  and 
songstress  ;  there  goes  the  act  drop." 

Theodore  rigged  his  head  in  at  the  window  again,  and 
I  fell  back,  determined  to  watch  and  catch  the  first 
lucid  interval. 

Such  an  interval  did  not  occur  that  evening.  I  sat 
out  the  opera  in  the  slips,  made  myself  as  philosophically 
content  as  I  could  ;  more  than  content,  I  was  delighted, 
but  not  to  insanity. 

The  next  morning  I  was  at  my  friend's  store  betimes. 
I  had  a  check  to  make  good  at  ten. 

"  Theodore,  I  should  hate  to  be  so  crazy  as  you  are. 
You  forget  your  business — " 

"  O  no—" 

"  And  your  debts — " 

"  O  no— 

'Still  so  gently  o'er  me  stealing, 
Memory  will  bring  back  the  feeling, 
Spite  of  ail  my  griefs  revealing, 
That  I  owe  them — that  I  owe  them  still.'  " 

"  Such  a  medley  as  your  he^d  !  Notes,  business  and 
musical,  mixed — " 

"  Phoh  !  fudge  !"     And  he  assumed  an  attitude — 

"  'Ah!  don't  mingle  one  human  feeling  ! '  " 

"  Why,  this  is  worse  than — " 
"  Don't  mention  it ! 

'  We  will  form  a  heaven  of  love  ; 
We  will  form  a  he-a-e-a-e — '  " 

Here  my  friend  got   lost  among  the  high  notes.     Some 
body  in  the  street  bellowed  "  Fire  !" 

"  Where  is  it  1"  said  Theodore,  running  to  the  door. 


226  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

"  Why,  you  cried  first,"  said  the  man  of  whom  he 
asked. 

"  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  did  !" 

The  evening  papers  chronicled  a  false  alarm. 
****** 

I  dined  with  Theodore  by  invitation.  As  I  stood  at 
the  door,  after  touching  the  bell,  I  heard  a  racket,  a 
rolling  and  a  tumbling  down  stairs.  Something  broke 
the  glass  I  looked  through,  in  my  face.  I  opened  the 
door,  and  a  heap  of  mortality  at  the  foot  of  the  flight 
assumed  the  likeness,  and  rose  to  the  altitude,  of  my 
friend,  Theodore  Chromatic.  I  picked  up  a  dish-cloth  ; 
Chromatic  snatched  it  from  my  hand,  and  ran  up  stairs, 
singing, 

"  'To  whom  belonging? — to  whom  belonging  ?'  " 

"  In  the  name  of  common  sense,  Theodore,  what  does 
this  mean  ?" 

"  O,  nothing  ;  only  I've  been  rehearsing." 

"  Rehearsing  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  the  kiss  at  the  end  of  the  first  act  of  La  Son- 

nambula.     Mother   B 's  cook   played  Amina  to  my 

Elvino,  and  the  old  lad^  was  Brough." 

"  Rough,  if  I  might  judge." 

"  Good  !  I  owe  you  one.  Brough,  rough,  Count  Ro- 
dolpho.  She  parted  us." 

"  So  I  saw." 

During  dinner,  the  presence  of  some  twenty  ladies 
and  gentlemen  kept  Theodore's  music  sotto  vocc. 
"  Take  heed,  whisper  low,"  he  sang  to  me  from  Masan- 
iello,  as  the  landlady  sailed  into  the  room  behind  the  last 
dish,  rosy  with  ire  and  steam,  and  fluttering  in  a  dinner 
dress  hastily  put  on.  She  looked  carving  knives  at 
him,  as  she  took  her  place. 


MUSIC     MAD.  227 

"  '  With  hair  loose  streaming,  and  eyes  bright  beaming, 
O,  then  it  comes  upon  our  fears,'  " 

sung  the  incurable,  as  a  potato   fell   in   his   lap   from  a 
plate  she  thrust  into  his  hand. 

Dinner,  and  the  discussion  of  its  solids,  kept  him 
quieter  than  I  had  hoped  ;  but  all  mouths  started  agape 
with  astonishment,  as  he  rose  from  the  table  and  struck 

" '  If  it's  permitted,  my  sweet  hostess,  I  would  now  retire,'  " 

with  a  malicious  emphasis  on    the  sweet. 
"You  are  certainly  drunk!"  said  I. 
"  No,  but  I  mean   to   be   doubtfully,"    said  he,  as  he 
closed  and  fastened  his  room  door,  and  produced  glasses 
and  a  bottle  of  wine.     A  quick,  hasty  footstep  on   the 
stairs,  a  tap  on  the  door.     No  answer.     She  commenced 
forcing  it. 

"  '  It  shakes  now,  it  breaks  now  ! 
Ah,  Heaven  !'  " 

Away  the  latch  flew. 

"  Mr  Chromatic,  I  won't  put  up  with  such  doings  in 
my  house,  that  I  won't.     You  shall  make   an  apology." 
"  'Ah  !  can  you  doubt  me  ?'  ' 

"  Mr  Chromatic,  I  won't  be  made  a  scandal  of — I 
won't ;  I—" 

"  Now,   don't  be  jealous,     Mrs    B ,  because  I 

kissed  the  cook — 

'  Still  I  can  kiss  thee — but  ah  !  thou  art  sadly  withered  !'  " 

"  No  I  aint  withered   neither,  you   insulting  puppy ; 

but   I'll   turn  you   out  of  the  house,  I  will  !  You  don't 

go  to  bed  no  night  till  morning — " 

"  O  yes,  I  was  in  last  night  at  eleven." 

"  Well,  you  kept  a  racket  and  a  noise  in  the  chamber 

all  night." 


228  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

"  'There  are  persons,  who,  while  sleeping, 
Still,  like  day,  their  vigils  keeping, 
Wandering,  dreaming,  speaking,  smiling, 
Though  in  sleep  their  sense  beguiling — 
Sonnambulists  they  are  named,  it  seems, 
From  their  walking  while  in  their  dreams.'  ' 

"  Withered  !"  muttered  Mrs  B ,  with  a  hitch  of 

her  shoulders,  and  a  peep  in  the  glass. 
"  Yes,"  warbled  Chromatic — 

"  '  Yes,  for  thee  time's  sad  power 

Thy  beauties  have  withered,  sweet  flower  ;'  " 

I  dodged  involuntarily  as  the  widow  approached  us, 
fairly  frantic.  Hers  was  no  acting.  Chromatic  seized 
a  chair  to  defend  himself. 

"  'Go  !  guilty  traitress  !'  " 

"  I'm  not  guilty  !"  screamed  the  widow. 

"  Why,  mother,  you  're  perfect  in  your  part ! 

'Now  avoid  me — now  away  !' 
Glorious  finale — first  rehearsal 

'  We  disdain  thee,  and  with  reason  !'  " 

"  Better  pay  your  board,  then  !" 

"  And  increase  your  hoard,  then  !  Original !  Capital ! 
Duetto,  Impro — Improvis — give  us  the  Italian  !" 

"  Hear  me  !"  shrieked  the  landlady. 

"  More  of  the  author  1  why  you  certainly  are  per 
fect  ?"  said  Chromatic,  in  ecstacy. 

''  '  Ah  !  pray  hear  her, 
She  will  not,  I'm  sure,  deceive  you.'  " 

said  I,  laughing. 

"You  quoting,  too?  Well,  I  will  hear  her.  What 
have  you  to  say,  mother  ?" 


MUSIC     MAD.  229 

"  Why,"  sobbed  the  landlady,  "  a-bu-busing,  heh-eh, 
heh-eh — it  is  cruel !" 
"  More  of  the  author  !" 
"  Chromatic,"  said  I, 

"  '  See  there  ! 

By  thy  treatment  she  will  die — 
Forbear !'  " 


"  It  is  too  bad,  Mrs  B ." 

"  Heh-eh,  heh-eh  !" 

"  Any  apology  I  can  make — " 

"  Heh-eh,  heh-eh !" 

"I  will." 

We  managed  to  make  her  understand,  and  Chromatic 
was  pardoned,  on  promise  of  future  good  behavior.  All 
this,  however,  did  not  prevent  him  from  singing  in  a 
cracked  voice  Amina's  solo. 

"  '  Ah  !  embrace  me — '  " 

Mrs  B gave  him  a  demi-scowl. 

"  '  While  thus  forgiving, 
Each  a  pardon  thus  receiving — *  " 

"  On  conditions,  recollect,  Mr  Chromatic,"  said  the 
widow,  as  she  left  the  room. 

"  '  On  the  earth  while  we  are  living, 
We  will  form  a  Hea — '  " 

"  Take  care,  Theodore,  you've  created  one  alarm  of 
fire  to-day  I" 
"  I  am  mute." 

20 


CORRECTED        PROOFS. 


THE    GENIUS. 

For  he  a  rope  of  sand  could  twist 
As  tough  as  learned  Sorbonist, 
And  weave  fine  cobwebs,  fit  for  skull, 
That's  empty  when  the  moon  is  full  ; 
Such  as  take  lodgings  in  a  head, 
That's  to  be  let  unfurnished. 

DIDST  ever  in  thy  pilgrimage,  encounter  a  GENIUS  ? 
I  mean  one  of  those  deeply  learned  bipeds,  who  have  a 
smattering  of  every  thing  but  the  useful,  and  are  well 
versed  in  lore  which  benefits  them  not.  Who  can  tell 
how  many  wheel-barrow  loads  of  iron  made  the  price 
of  a  day's  labor  in  Spartan  currency,  but  not  how  many 
dimes  there  are  to  an  American  dollar.  Who  are  able 
to  describe  the  Egyptian  process  of  manufacturing  paper 
from  the  reed  papyrus,  but  cannot  tell  whether  the  paper 
now  in  use  is  manufactured  in  North  America  or  New 
Zealand — or  whether  it  is  made  of  linen  rags,  or  potato 
tops.  Who  can  discourse  learnedly  upon  King  Philip's 
Macedonian  Phalanx,  and  their  weapons — but  cannot 
distinguish  a  rifle  from  a  fowling  piece,  or  a  percussion 
from  a  flint  lock.  Who  can  revel  on  black  letter,  and 
grow  fat  on  musty  manuscripts  and  relics  of  antiquity, 
or  on  books  generally — but  hardly  know  how  to  dispose 
of  the  knife  and  fork  at  table.  Deeply  learned  in  poli 
tics  and  statistics,  such  an  one  can  sometimes  calculate 
to  a  farthing  the  expenses  of  government — the  interest 
of  the  national  debt,  or  the  sum  requisite  for  the  sup 
port  of  the  army  and  navy,  while  he  cannot  readily  tell 
the  difference  between  the  price  of  a  week's  board  and 


THE      GENIUS. 


231 


a  single  meal.  He  can  tell  what  use  the  Carthagenian 
women  made  of  their  hair,  when  they  shaved  their  heads 
for  the  benefit  of  their  country,  but  does  not  know  the 
use  of  a  comb  in  his  own,  though  perchance  he  can 
describe  the  relics  of  ancient  toilet  paraphernalia,  un 
earthed  at  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii. 

Genius  will  sometimes  strike  into  some  particular 
pnth,  and  then  it  makes  the  possessor  ignorant  of  every 
thing  else.  But  an  universal  genius  has  some  or  all  of  the 
peculiarities  above  enumerated — or  if  not  precisely  those, 
others  very  similar.  One  trait,  however,  is  the  univer 
sal  attribute  of  the  possessor  of  genius — contempt  for 
common  things — more  particularly  for  pecuniary  matters. 
It  is  not  always  essential  to  drink  gin  and  water,  though 
Lord  Byron  would  swallow  that  anti-sentimental  bever 
age — but  disregard  to  pecuniary  matters  is  a  sine  qua 
non.  If  not  actually  possessed,  it  must  be  affected. 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  genius  making  account  of  dollars 
and  cents,  or  husbanding  his  income?  The  thought  is 
preposterous.  What !  descend  to  matters  so  common 
place  and  necessary  as  taking  heed  to  the  acquisition  and 
proper  disposal  of  base  coin?  A  genius  is  not  a  genius 
if  he  takes  care  of  himself,  or  keeps  an  eye  to  the  man 
agement  of  his  money — ergo,  Sir  Walter  Scott  was  no 
genius  at  all.  Lord  Byron,  too,  has  been  suspected  and 
accused  of  hinting  that  "  monies "  are  worth  looking 
after  ;  those,  then,  who  can  soar  above  such  sordid  con 
siderations,  go  a  flight  beyond  Scott  and  Byron.  Oliver 
Goldsmith  cared  for  no  such  trash,  and  although  his 
works  cleared  vast  sums,  the  author  of  the  "  Deserted 
Village"  never  was  out  of  debt.  He  would  give  away 
money,  and  keep  his  tailor  out  of  his  bill.  The  author 
of  Hudibras  died  as  poor  in  pocket,  as  the  every-day 


232  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

doggrel  imitations  of  his  style  are  in  poetry.  Henry 
Fielding  "  was  naturally  but  little  formed  for  economy," 
and  scattered  a  handsome  fortune  brought  him  by  his 
wife,  and  his  own  inheritance  beside,  in  three  years. 
Tom  Jones  himself  could  not  have  rattled  it  away  faster. 
Smollet  never  could  make  the  bailiff  entirely  "  forget 
the  way  to  his  habitation  " — but  I  could  not  find  space 
on  a  ream  of  foolscap  to  enumerate  half  the  "  illustri 
ous  poor  "  who  kept  themselves  so.  To  be  sure  there 
are  m^ny  exceptions — but  as  it  is  easier  to  imitate  a 
genius  in  his  extravagance  than  in  his  economy,  every 
would-be-genius  copies  the  former.  They  despise  the 
labor  attendant  upon  economy,  and  imagine  themselves 
above  those  irksome  duties,  which  are  requisite  to  ob 
tain  necessaries  as  well  as  luxuries. 

Permit  me  to  introduce  you  to  a  female  specimen  of 
the  species.  It  came  to  pass  some  time  ago,  that  a  long, 
lank  being  of  the  feminine  gender  came  to  the  residence 
of  my  father,  bringing  letters  introductory  and  recom 
mendatory  from  a  friend  of  my  sister.  She  was  travel 
ling  for  her  health,  and  sooth  to  say,  her  appearance  did 
not  belie  the  plea  of  indisposition,  which  was  her  ostensi 
ble  reason  for  the  journey.  Every  body  in  the  house 
was  delighted  with  the  idea  of  being  honored  with  a 
visit  from  a  genius,  for  her  fame  had  precededJier.  She 
was  urged  to  make  a  long  visit,  and  nothing  loth,  took 
up  her  abode  for  a  regular  visitation.  A  room  was 
cleared  for  her,  and  to  this  apartment,  her  bandboxes 
and  portmanteau  were  carried.  Her  apparel  appeared 
rather  soiled  and  dusty — this  my  sister  attributed,  and 
with  reason,  to  her  journey.  The  same  excuse  however, 
would  not  answer  for  her  neglecting  to  put  herself  in 
decent  trim  after  her  arrival — or  for  sitting  through  the 


THE      GENIUS.  233 

evening  in  her  dusty  and  road-worn  habilaments.     But 
she  was  a  genius,  and  of  course  disregarded  trifles. 

My  sister,  who  seemed  to  consider  the  stranger  a  con 
signment  to  her  care,,  or  in  other  words,  her  protege, 
undertook  after  tea  to  draw  out  the  genius  in  conversa 
tion,  to  convince  her  younger  brothers,  who  could  ill 
suppress  their  mirth ;  and  her  parents,  who  hardly  con 
cealed  their  disgust,  that  the  beauties  of  the  mind,  which 
our  guest  had  cultivated,  more  than  compensated  for 
her  lack  of  outward  adornment.  Miss  Basbleu,  who 
was  used  to  being  exhibited,  readily  took  her  cue,  and 
away  she  went,  over  every  subject  into  which  she  had 
ever  dipped — evincing  about  as  much  acquaintance 
with  each,  as  a  sparrow  who  has  skimmed  over  a  field 
of  grain,  may  be  supposed  to  possess  of  the  natural 
history  of  it.  Nine  o'clock  P.  M.  found  her  still  talk 
ing — my  father  beginning  to  yawn,  and  my  mother 
knitting  vehemently.  At  ten  the  old  gentleman  was 
asleep  in  his  chair,  and  the  old  lady  in  the  fidgets.  At 
eleven,  Miss  Basbleu  was  alone  with  my  sister.  When 
at  length  she  did  retire,  it  would  seem  that  she  did  it 
with  an  intention  to  draw  on  the  morning  lor  her  loss 
of  sleep  during  the  evening  before — as  at  the  breakfast 
hour  she  was  not  visible.  After  waiting  a  reasonable, 
perhaps  I  should  say  an  unreasonable  time,  a  messen 
ger  was  despatched  to  ascertain  whether  Miss  Basbleu 
was  dead  or  alive.  The  little  kitchen  Mercury  returned 
with  a  request  that  my  sister  would  go  to  the  guest's 
chamber.  Caroline  hied  away  to  wait  upon  the  genius, 
and  shortly  re-appearing,  desired  from  Miss  Basbleu, 
that  breakfast  should  not  be  delayed  on  her  account. 
No  questions  could  pump  from  her  the  reason  of  the 

non-appearance  of  her  protege — and  after  she  had  hastily 

20* 


234 


CORRECTED        PROOFS. 


swallowed  her  coffee,  she  returned  to  the  genius,  with 
whom  she  certainly  appeared  fascinated. 

At  dinner  Miss  Basbleu  appeared — and  ate  most  un- 
poetically.  She  was  in  much  better  guise  than  on  the 
evening  before,  and  my  sister's  hand  was  visible  in  her 
toilet.  I  thought  she  wore  a  dress,  which  I  had  seen 
Caroline  wear,  but  upon  second  thoughts,  deemed  it 
impossible  that  even  a  genius  could  travel  without  taking 
with  her  a  change  of  appareL  Notwithstanding  her 
appetite  for  dinner  appeared  so  imperative,  Miss  Basbleu 
soon  evinced  that  her  ruling  passion  was  stronger  than 
even  her  appetite.  She  gave  us,  by  way  of  an  accom 
paniment,  a  dissertation  upon  the  ancient  posture  at 
meal-times,  discoursed  upon  Roman  luxury,  and  alluded 
to  the  extravagance  of  the  Roman  gourmands,  who 
carried  the  expense  of  their  tables  so  far,  that  an  impe 
rial  edict  was  issued,  forbidding  the  price  of  a  single 
entertainment  to  exceed  a  certain  sum.  Thence  she 
danced  to  Cleopatra's  feast,  where  the  Egyptian  queen 
dissolved  a  pearl  of  great  price,  in  a  cup  of  vinegar — 
and  while  upon  the  subject  of  precious  stones,  she  took 
a  trip  to  Arabia,  and  recounted  the  virtues  supposed 
by  those  people  to  be  inherent  in  divers  jewels.  While 
in  Arabia,  she  condescended  to  inform  us  that  Felix 
means  Happy,  and  that  Arabia  Felix  was  so  called,  to 
distinguish  it  from  Arabia  Pttrca,  or  the  Rocky.  At 
length,  perceiving  that  we  were  all  waiting  for  her  to 
rise  from  the  table,  she  stopped  short  in  the  midst  of  a 
Latin  quotation,  and  bolted  the  residue  of  her  dinner. 

It  is  more  than  a  fair  task  for  my  learning  to  recount 
even  the  names  of  the  subjects  upon  which  she  lectured 
— to  give  the  substance  of  her  dissertations  would  be 
for  me  an  impossibility.  No  sentence,  however  trivial, 


THE      GENIUS.  235 

could  be  uttered,  but  she  would  hang  upon  it  a  treatise 
on  antiquity.  Ma  Conscience  !  how  the  girl  talked — 
talked — talked.  Mother's  head  ached  for  a  week  after 
ward,  and  father  swore  thnt  it  gave  him  a  distressing 
fit  of  English  Grammar.  Toward  evening  a  walk  was 
proposed,  and  here,  the  genius  was  as  much  at  fault  as 
at  her  toilet  in  the  morning.  Caroline's  wardrobe  had 
to  suffer  again  to  put  the  guest  in  walking  trim,  as  she 
had  unfortunately  omitted  to  bring  with  her  one  half 
the  little  etceteras  indispensable  to  a  lady's  equipment. 
Just  as  we  had  reached  tbe  door,  a  tremendous  hiatus 
was  discovered  in  the  heel  of  one  of  Miss  Basbleu's 
hose  ;  and  one  of  her  shoes  was  a  morocco,  and  the 
other  a  prunella.  We  put  back  to  refit,  and  having  re 
arranged  Miss  Basbleu's  attire,  while  she  laughed  at  us 
for  taking  so  much  pains  with  what  she  considered  non- 
essentials,  the  party  got  again  under  weigh. 

It  is  one  characteristic  of  a  savante  to  consider  her 
own  sex  too  feminine,  for  her  notice,  when  there  are  any 
he  creatures  within  reach.  She  regards  the  received 
course  of  female  education  too  narrow,  and  deems  the 
mind  of  the  gentle  sex  as  capable  of  grasping  what  are 
deemed  masculine  branches  of  education,  as  the  lords  of 
the  creation  themselves.  Accordingly  when  Henry  Bliss 
and  sisters,  joined  our  party,  Miss  Basbleu  hardly  wait 
ed  for  an  introduction  before  she  fell  upon  him  with  all 
her  artillery  of  Mythology,  Antiquity  and  the  Dead 
Languages,  flanked  by  her  light-corps  of  Belles  Lettres, 
and  supported  with  a  corps  de  reserve  of  Logic,  Rhet 
oric,  and  English  Grammar.  The  poor  fellow  was  thun 
derstruck  and  would  have  retreated,  but  Miss  Bapbleu 
followed  him  up  with  Geology,  Botany,  and  Natural 
History — and  made  a  dead  thrust  at  him  under  cover  of 


CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

Phitonism.  Finding  himself  fairly  mastered,  Henry  sur 
rendered  at  discretion,  not  a  little  pleased  at  first,  at 
being  thus  monopolised  by  a  Genius.  The  female  part 
of  the  party,  notwithstanding  their  respect  for  the  won 
derful  powers  of  the  eccentric,  could  ill  suppress  their 
merriment,  as  they  saw  through  all  her  manoeuvres. 
Caroline  however  was  a  little  chagrined,  as  she  consid 
ered  Henry  her  peculiar  property — and  taking  the  arm 
of  a  female  friend,  left  the  party,  to  avoid  being  longer 
disgusted  with  Miss  Basbleu's  advances  upon  the  young 
gentleman.  The  Genius's  letters  of  introduction  had 
lost  half  their  weight  on  my  sister.  They  walked  home, 
and  Miss  Basbleu  sauntered  into  the  room  an  hour  after 
ward,  protesting  that  she  was  as  much  fatigued  as  Han 
nibal  was  after  the  passage  of  the  Alps,  and  should  seek 
the  rest  the  Carthagenian  hero  found  at  Capua,  on  her 
pillow,  as  Henry  Bliss  had  made  her  promise  to  take  a 
long  walk  with  him  in  the  morning. 

Henry  called  in  the  course  of  the  evening.  My  sister 
tauntingly  told  him  that  Miss  Basbleu  had  retired.  He 
supposed  so,  or  he  would  not  have  called,  as  he  had 
already  endured  one  dose  of  blue-ism,  and  had  another 
in  perspective  on  the  morrow.  "  Why  then  invite  her 
to  walk  ?"  inquired  Caroline.  "  Invite  her  !"  ejaculated 
Henry,  astonished. 

Poor  Miss  Basbleu  !  She  little  dreamed  how  far  the 
parallel  between  herself  and  Hannibal  was  to  be  carried. 
She  had  told  Henry  that  she  should  not  be  visible  in  the 
evening,  and  imagined  that  her  absence  from  the  draw 
ing  room  would  render  it  a  place  of  no  attraction  for 
him.  She  thought  she  had  astonished  him  with  her 
knowledge,  captivated  him  with  her  charms,  and  secur 
ed  him  as  her  own.  Knowing  less  of  affaires  du  coeur 


THE      GENIUS.  237 

than  of  the  campaigns  of  Alexander,  she  imagined  she 
had  taken  Henry  by  a  coup  de  main.  But  alas  !  As 
Hannibal  lost  Rome  by  wintering  at  Capua,  Miss  Bas- 
bleu,  by  "  retiring  to  her  pillow"  permitted  a  tete-a-tete 
between  Henry  and  Caroline.  An  explanation  took 
place  of  course — Henry,  whose  politeness  alone  had 
induced  him  to  agree  to  a  walk  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  and  to  endure  Miss  Basbleu  on  the  afternoon  pre 
vious,  had  called  to  inform  my  sister  in  the  absence  of 
her  guest,  of  all  the  little  slanders  which  the  Genius 
had  whispered  in  his  ear  respecting  her  friend — of  her 
representations  of  my  sister's  ignorance,  and  unfitness 
for  the  wife  of  a  gentleman,  and  of  her  engaging  him 
to  walk  the  next  morning.  In  return,  he  learned  the 
manner  in  which  the  genius  had  represented  the  pro 
jected  walk  and  the  insulting  air  with  which  she  did  it. 
Between  them  a  plan  of  operations  was  devised,  which 
my  sister  put  in  execution. 

The  Genius  rose,  punctual  to  the  hour,  but  could 
find  nothing  in  her  chamber  wherewith  to  deck  herself, 
but  her  own  wardrobe.  "  Parbleu  !"  exclaimed  Miss 
Basbleu,  "  this  dress  will  never  answer  !"  as  she  looked 
at  the  dusty,  dirty  French  calico,  in  which  she  had 
ridden  two  days  before,  and  the  only  one,  by  the  way, 
which  she  had  in  the  world.  "  Sacre  Dieu  !"  she  con 
tinued  as  she  ascertained  that  divers  little  indispensa- 
bles  to  a  lady's  toilet,  with  which  my  sister  had  supplied 
her,  had  been  removed  from  the  chamber.  "  Sacre 
Dieu  !" — for  she  could  swear  in  French  delightfully, 
and  knew,  as  well  as  anybody,  notwithstanding  her  af 
fected  ignorance,  what  was  necessary  to  a  morning 
dress — "  Diable  !" — for  she  cared  as  much  as  any  belle 
how  she  looked  when  she  had  a  conquest  in  view, 


238  CORRECTED      V  ROOFS. 

notwithstanding  her  boasted  superiority  over  trifles  ; — 
"  I  can  never  go  out  with  Henry  Bliss  in  this  guise." 

Henry  waited  long  for  the  Genius,  and  at  length 
walked  with  Caroline  in  her  stead.  As  they  returned 
to  the  house,  Miss  Basbleu  was  getting  into  the  stage, 
swearing  in  English,  (for  she  could  swear  in  English 
as  well  as  French,  and  despised  feminine  weakness,) 
that  our  whole  family  were  illiterate,  uninformed,  im 
polite,  and  altogether  wanting  in  the  courtesy  due  to  a 
genius  like  herself. 

So  much  for  Miss  Basbieu.  Whether  she  writeth 
her  name  31  ins  still,  your  deponent  is  unable  to  say — 
but  sincerely  hopes  so.  I  have  no  enemy  in  the  world 
that  I  know  of — and  I  could  wish  none  but  an  enemy 
so  hard  a  lot  as  a  union  with  such  a  genius.  He  would 
be  obliged  to  breakfast  on  a  Greek  Lexicon,  dine  on 
Sanscrit,  and  sup  on  Hebrew  or  Chaldaic — and  to  put 
up  w'.th  her  reflections  upon  his  ignorance  by  way  of 
sauce. 


S  T  E  A  L  T  H  . 

"  THEY  obtain  their  living  by  stealth,"  said  my  friend, 
speaking  of  a  certain  class  of  people.  Tried  by  the 
dictionary,  perfectly  correct — '  the  act  of  stealing,  theft.' 
But  what  a  queer  idea  one  has  of  the  sentence,  upon 
first  hearing  !  To  do  a  thing  by  stealth,  in  the  vernacu 
lar,  is  to  do  it  unperceived,  and  there  are  many  who 
get  a  living  thus — nobody  knows  how  they  do  it. 


COMPLAINT     OF    A    SMART     FELLOW.      239 


COMPLAINT   OF  A  SMART   FELLOW. 

SEATED  alone  in  our  sanctum,  in  perfect  apparent  ex 
ternal  quiet,  the  Phrenological  Department  of  our  upper 
story  got  into  sad  commotion.  Ideality  had  been  taking 
a  nap,  into  which  fatigue  had  thrown  (him  ?  her  ?  or  it  ?) 
and  Self  Esteem  and  Approbativeness  were  jogging  the 
sleepy  organ  aforesaid  for  something  which  should  ever 
lastingly  perpetuate  the  fame  of  the  reader's  very  hum 
ble  servant.  Acquisitiveness  seconded  their  efforts,  be 
cause  Hope  had  whispered  that  the  progeny  of  Ideality 
might  be  worth  dollars,  and  Language  stood  ready  to 
clothe  the  bantling  with  words  whenever  it  should  make 
its  appearance.  Secretiveness  with  characteristic  craft, 
concealed  whatever  interest  she  took  in  the  discussion ; 
Benevolence,  who,  like  a  coachman,  is  mounted  on  the 
front  of  the  crauiological  machine,  looked  down  in  pity 
to  see  how  near  the  hubbub  would  drive  the  rest  of  the 
body  to  exhaustion — Comparison  likened  the  confusion 
to  that  of  Babel,  and  Reverence  was  sadly  vexed  that 
the  tenants  of  the  human  head  should  so  demean  them 
selves.  Combativeness  threatened  to  clear  the  premises 
of  all  the  occupants  ;  but  Cautiousness  strove  to  molify 
his  wrath,  and  hinted  that  a  destruction  of  the  whole 
organization  would  follow  such  a  proceeding — Destruc- 
tiveness  protested  that  such  was  the  event  of  all  others 
that  he  wished  for. 

Just  in  time  to  prevent,  so  dreadful  a  consummation, 
the  door  opened,  and  a  wan  figure  glided  in,  placed  a 
written  sheet  on  the  table,  and  moved  out  again,  without 


240  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

uttering  a  word.     The  contents  of  that  sheet  were  aa 
follows  ;  — 

My  Dear  Mr  E , 

I  am  one  of  those  unfortunates  who  have  "  had  great* 
ness  thrust  upon  them."  I  have  the  reputation  of  being 
a  tremendously  smart  fellow ;  how  I  came  by  it  is  be 
yond  my  power  to  tell,  for,  since  my  earliest  recollection, 
the  extent  of  any  commendation  that  I  recollect  to  have 
received  for  any  particular  feat,  is  "  P-r-e-t-t-y  w-e-1-1, 
but  he  might  do  better  if  he  would."  What  that  opin 
ion  is  grounded  on,  is  a  mystery  ;  to  me  it  appears  about 
as  reasonable  as  the  stale  conundrum,  that  a  glass-blower 
can  make  an  E  gallop,  because  he  can  make  a  D  can 
ter.  Oh  the  misery  of  having  unconsciously  perpetrated 
a  crack  article  ! — Oh  the  odorousness  of  comparisons  ; — 
Dogberry  never  knew  half  the  extent  of  it — for  Dog 
berry  was  not  a  smart  fellow.  If  he  had  been,  he  could 
not  have  slept  on  his  watch — or  indeed  off  his  watch. 
And  when  one  is  compared  with  himself,  or  rather  with 
what  himself  might  be,  if  his  friends  are  not  partial 
judges,  comparisons  are  odious  indeed.  I  will  give  you 
one  day  from  my  diary. 

Rose  at  nine,  on  the  morning  of  July  fifth.  A  little 
headachy — stomach  weak — ideas  a  confused  medley  of 
patriotism  arid  wine  fumes.  Certain  that  I  was  in  the 
state  which  in  nautical  parlance  is  designated  by  the 
phrase  "  a  little  how  came  you  so,"  but  uncertain  how 
I  came  so.  Pulse  irregular — face  flushed — head  hot — 
tongue  furred — a  little  feverish.  Thought  of  the  chol 
era,  and  hoped  these  were  not  symptoms  premonitory. 
Sat  down  to  coffee — opened  the  morning  paper,  filled 
with  accounts  of  yesterday's  celebration.  Recollected 
where  I  got  my  head-ache,  &/c.  "  Mr made 


COMPLAINT     OF    A    SMART     FELLOW.         241 

a  very  happy  oration,  but  we  feel  obliged  in  justice  to 
him  to  say,  that  he  was  not  himself."  Hem — So  much 
for  what  I  thought  one  of  my  best  efforts.  "  He  had 
not  spent  labor  enough  upon  it."  It  cost  me  a  month's 
work !  "  Altogether,  it  was  a  chaotic  mass,  sparkling 
with  beauties,  and,  as  a  whole,  may  be  regarded  but 
as  a  brilliant  proof  of  what  the  gifted  orator  might  ac 
complish,  if  he  would."  Vastly  pleasing  this,  was  it 
not  ?  Coffee  finished,  my  particular  friend,  Mr  Allwork, 
was  announced.  He  wanted  me  only  to  prepare  a  se 
ries  of  regulars  and  fourteen  volunteer  toasts  for  the 
members  of  his  club,  and  a  speech  to  be  delivered  bj 
the  president,  impromptu,  upon  his  being  toasted,  at  the 
approaching  anniversary.  He  was  followed  by  another 
friend,  who  wished  me  to  write  him  a  series  of  tem 
perance  resolutions  ; — upon  his  heels  came  a  third, 
who  wanted  a  speech  for  an  anti-anti-license-law  meet 
ing  of  grocers ; — a  fourth  came,  who  wished  me  to 
indite  him  a  letter  requesting  an  honorable  dismission 
from  a  Calvinist  church.  Each  swore  me  to  secrecy, 
so  I  could  not  evade  one  by  pleading  my  engagements 
with  another — of  course  I  was  obliged  to  promise  all. 

Noon.  "The  cry  is  still,  they  come."  I  have  been 
applied  to  for  stanzas  for  an  alburn,  for  a  very  particu 
lar  friend,  who  wished  to  transcribe  them  into  it  over 
his  initials, — and  for  a  song  for  an  amateur  friend,  whose 
excellent  voice  is  to  his  head  as  the  parchment  to  a 
drum,  with  the  difference  that  while  the  drum  aforesaid 
acknowledges  its  emptiness,  my  friend  wishes  to  stuff 
his  head  with  my  rhyme  and  carol  it  as  his  own.  Eve 
ning.  The  curators  of  the  Lyceum  are  entreating  me 
to  fill,  this  evening,  a  vacuum  created  by  the  disappear 
ance  of  a  lecturer  on  geology — to  go  into  the  chair, 


242  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

and  prate  of  primary,  secondary,  tertiary  and  slatose 
formations  ;  of  trap,  granite,  quartz,  mica  and  pudding- 
stone — me,  who  hardly  know  a  beryl  from  a  flint.  "  But  I 
must — I  should  oblige  them  very  much — I  am  a  talented 
man,"  and  must  therefore  be  crushed  to-night  under  ten 
thousand  talents  of  stone  ! 

There  is  a  day — now  come  a  day's  consequences. 
The  president  of  the  club  takes  a  seat  in  the  Legislature 
->-won  by  the  laurels  earned  by  my  speech.  "It  was 
an  excellent  thing,"  they  say,  "  the  production  of  a  man 
of  limited  advantages.  If  Mr ,  (meaning  my 
self,)  would  only  be  alive  enough  to  improve  his  talents 
thus,  how  proud  his  friends  might  be  of  him  !  But  he 
will  do  nothing,  he  is  absolutely  lazy."  The  temper 
ance  resolutions  have  stuck  an  ice-plant  in  the  hat  of 
the  cold-water  man  who  read  them  as  his  own ;  the 
anti-temperance  documents  have  marked  the  reader 
of  them  "  prime  ;  "  the  Universalists  have  published  the 
letter  of  request  as  a  refutation  of  all  John  Calvin's 
tenets;  the  album  man  is  known  as  the  poet ;  and  a 
likeness  of  my  amateur  musical  friend  accompanies 
the  sheet  of  music  to  which  the  words  I  furnished  him 
are  set.  My  lecture  on  geology,  though  a  string  of 
quotations,  verbatim,  from  Bakewell  and  Silliman,  is 
denounced  as  incorrect  in  its  statements,  and  altogether 
faulty. 

There,  Mr  E ,  you  have  a  small  sample  of  my  life 

— and  I  put  it  to  you,  if  my  sufferings  is  not  intolerable  1 
Let  me  charm  never  so  wisely  lor  myself,  nobody  is 
charmed  but  myself — and  even  I,  myself,  am  denied  the 
gratification  of  being  pleased  with  any  thing  I  do — 
longer  than  till  I  can  hear  the  opinions  of  others  ;  while, 
if  I  am  called  upon  to  supply  the  original  essays,  etc. 


A      SAINT      ON      THE      LOOKOUT.  243 

of  my  friends,  nobody  can  commend  those  friends 
enough,  for  my  work — and  I  am  denounced  as  indolent, 
supine,  and  wanting  in  ambition.  People  suppose  me 
endued  with  a  genius  of  a  forty  horse  power, — and  while 
I  am  not  permitted  to  deny  it,  I  cannot  pluck  the  plumes 
from  my  strutting  friends,  and  show  what  I  have  done, 
to  exonerate  myself  from  the  -imputation  of  indolence. 
W!i  it  sh  ill  I  do  ?  Tell  me,  my  dear  E ,  and  everlast 
ingly  oblige  one,  who  will  else  soon  give  some  one  an 
opportunity  to  write  in  his  hie  jacet — "  he  might  have 
been  A  SMART  FELLOW." 

The  unfortunate's  proper  course  may  be  designated  by 
a  very  simple  rule — let  him  take  as  muclrpains  for  him 
self,  as  he  does  for  his  neighbors.  One  is  too  apt  to 
regulate  the  zeal  of  his  labor  by  the  character  of  his 
employer,  and  self,  in  matters  where  labor  is  required, 
is  often  too  easy  a  master.  Let  him  consider  the  de 
mands  of  others  upon  his  time  as  of  secondary  impor 
tance  to  his  own. 


A    SAINT    ON    THE    LOOKOUT. 

THK  natives  of  some  of  the  Ionian  Islands  have  an 
opinion  that  their  tutelar  saint,  Columba,  perches  him 
self  on  the  church  spires  on  certain  evenings,  to  count 
ths  Islands,  and  see  that  none  have  been  destroyed  by 
witchcraft.  What  will  not  ignorance  and  superstition 
make  of  men '? 


244  CORRECTED      PROOFS 


A    VISION. 

"  What  a  jingling  there  would  be,  if  every  fool  in  our  day,  as 
of  old,  wore  the  cap  and  bells  of  his  order." 

RECIPE  for  a  nap  in  the  evening  : — A  glass  of  negus  or 
punch,  a  good  fire,  and  a  cigar.  If  these  fail  of  their 
somnolent  influence,  add  a  newspaper,  and  the  dose  is 
inevitable.  Dozing  over  one,  upon  an  evening,  the  sen 
tence  above  quoted  caught  my  eye.  It  stood  alone,  and 
without  comment,  a  rule  above,  and  one  below  it.  I 
read  and  re-read — spoke  and  repeated  it — for  it  seemed 
marvellously  pert,  though  a  conviction  of  its  truth  was 
irresistible.  Divers  and  curious  were  the  thoughts  that 

O 

single  sentence  prompted. 

The  half  dozen  books  that  constitute  a  scribbler's 
library  jostled  each  other  rather  uncourteously.  Strange 
that  authors  cannot  forget  in  their  works,  the  jostlings 
and  jealousies  of  their  private  life,  but  must  be  thus 
exemplifying  the  generous  feelings  of  fellows  of  a  trade. 
"  Le  Diable  Boiteaux "  of  Le  Sage  at  length  gained 
the  mastery,  and  it  appeared  he  was  the  original  cause, 
as  well  as  the  ultimate  victor.  Wriggling  itself  out  of 
the  rank,  and  standing  in  advance  of  the  others,  the 
volume  opened,  and,  stepping  from  the  Frontispiece, 
ASMODEUS  himself,  in  propria  persona,  hobbled  down 
from  the  shelf.  Touching  the  tip  of  my  right  ear  with 
the  end  of  his  crutch,  "  listen  !  "  said  the  demon. 

"  I  hear  a  faint  tinkling,  good  Asmodeus.  What 
means  it  ? " 


A    VISION.  245 

"Listen  !  "  said  my  visiter,  and  handling  his  crutch 
like  a  veteran,  he  tipped  the  other  external  index  of  my 
hearing  apparatus. 

"  Save  you—" 

"  Tut !  my  dear  fellow — that's  no  aspiration  for  a 
Christian.  Save  me  ! — you  are  beside  yourself." 

"  That  may  be,  Asmodeus,  arid  I  am  beside  you  also 
— but  can  neither  understand  myself  nor  your  Demon- 
ship,  for  the  racket.  If  all  the  beasts  who  bore  burden 
at  the  building  of  Babel  wore  each  a  bell,  they  could 
not  have  jingled  in  this  wise.  Clap  a  stopper  in  one 
lug  again,  if  you  please,  for 

Mine  ear  is  pained — 

As  modest  Covvper,  whom  you  jostled  aside  on  the  shelf, 
hath  it.  Oh,  how  many  fools  there  are  in  the  world  ! " 

Here  one  of  the  crutches  approached  my  head  again. 
Nearly  stunned  with  the  music,  which  the  acute  sense 
of  hearing,  already  imparted,  had  blessed  my  ears  withal, 
and  unwilling  to  suffer  farther  by  the  sharpening  of  any 
other  of  my  senses,  I  dodged  incontinently,  and — mir- 
abih  dictu  ! — my  own  bell  rattled  in  my  ears — loud — 
deep — abrupt. 

"  And  I  too,  a  fool !  " 

"  To  be  sure  you  are,  sir.  I'll  read  you  some  counts 
of  the  indictment.  You  have  lived  till  this  time,  to  be 
surprised  at  the  number  of  fools  in  the  world  !  As  an 
author,  you  are  hoping  for  emolument ! — a  precious  fool ; 
for  fame  ! — an  ambitious  fool ;  for  ease  ! — oh,  fool  !  Nay 
— start  not  at  the  truth,  or  your  bell  rattles.  I  talk  in 
plain  terms  when  I  would  befriend.  If  it  pleased  me 
to  injure  you,  I  would  flatter — but  I  shall  be  plain  with 
you,  arid  administer  coarser  food  to  vour  vanity,  than 
21* 


246 


CORRECTED     PROOFS. 


that  with  which  the  Spartan  fool,  Lycurgus,  dosed  his 
people.  Your  head  aches?  Pray  Heaven,  then,  that 
the  noise  of  other  people's  folly  be  aye  the  only  cause 
which  shall  disturb  you.  Now  for  a  walk." 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

"  That  elegantly  dressed  gentlemen — " 

"  Wears  the  bell  for  imagining  that  people  are  admir 
ing  him,  when  it  is  only  his  tailor's  skill  that  they  are 
gaping  at.  And  Shears  is  a  fool  for  selling  him  the  suit 
on  credit.  That  crack  customer  driving  a  span,  is  es 
tablishing  his  credit  by  whipping  before  the  doors  of  his 
friends  and  patrons.  If  he  wants  a  note  endorsed  to 
morrow — and  whether  he  will  or  not,  you  know  as  well 
as  he,  and  he  knows  as  well  as  if  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with  his  own  business — that  equipage  will  drive  him,  to 
whom  he  applies  for  a  name,  a  long  way  from  giving  it." 

"  There  is  one  person  without  the  badge — fortunate 
fellow !  I  am  happy  that  in  the  crowd,  there  is  one 
better  than  a  fool  !  " 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast !  He,  like  a  distinctly  and 
well-drawn  picture,  needs  no  label — like  a  book  of  one 
chapter,  he  needs  no  index — a  title-page  suffices.  In 
his,  read  Brandy  in  the  flushed  cheek — Jamaica  in  the 
carbuncles,  and  Intemperance  in  the  tout  ensemble. 
Had  I  bell'd  him  to  shew  you  he  was  a  fool,  I  had  more 
richly  merited  the  jingle  myself. 

"  Yonder  creeps  a  mortal  whose  strength  is  scarce 
eufficient  to  carry  him  along  under  his  bell.  He  is  a 
sufferer  by  empiricism.  Steam,  lobelia,  and  red-pepper 
have  wasted  a  form  once  robust,  to  the  attenuated  thing 
you  see — the  effigy  of  a  man.  His  faith  is  unshaken 
in  the  virtues  of  the  system,  and  he  is  even  now  crawl- 
incr  to  receive  his  coup  de  grace  at  the  hands  of  his  ex- 


A    VISION.  247 

ecutioner.  If  there  be  any  thing  for  which  the  bell  is 
merited,  it  is  putting  one's  life  into  the  hands  of  a  pre 
tender,  unfit  to  be  trusted  with  the  ails  of  a  pet  dog. 

"  Each  of  the  multitude  is,  as  you  see,  marked  with 
some  characteristic  of  a  fool.  Men  are  not  now  canni 
bals,  but  in  some  sense,  different  men  and  classes  of 
men  are  relatively  placed  as  the  orders  of  animals  stand 
to  each  other.  The  hawk  pounces  upon  the  sparrow — so 
that  hawk-eyed  man  with  a  silver  bell  is  ready  to  settle 
upon  the  poor  devil  before  him,  who  is  fool  enough  to 
imagine  he  can  turn  Pluto  from  his  purpose,  by  any  elo 
quence  or  entreaty.  He  might  as  well  expostulate  with 
the  bronze  statue  of  the  Tzar  Peter  Alexowitz. 

"  Monkeys  are  laughed  at  as  imitators — look  at  the 
whole  race  of  fashionables  !  Nothing  is  so  preposterous 
that  fashionable  precedent  may  not  authorise  it — noth 
ing  so  monstrous  that  fashion  may  not  stamp  it  elegant. 

"  You  have  seen  a  poor  little  fluttering  bird  run  into 
the  very  jaws  of  a  serpent !  See  that  bewildered  wight 
with  a  head  full  of  illusive  hopes,  a  mind  intent  on  specu 
lation,  gloating  upon  visions  of  castles  in  the  air.  His 
contracts  have  been  extended  beyond  the  possibility  of 
his  meeting  them — mortgages — hypothecation  of  stock 
— one  per  cent  per  diem — are  his  last  honorable  resorts. 
He  trembles  on  the  brink  of  ruin — hesitates  between 
the  Scylla  of  bankruptcy,  and  the  Charybdis  of  dishon 
esty.  One  or  the  other  must  dash  his  dreams. 

"  The  jackal  is  fabled  to  beat  the  bush  for  the  lion, 
and  the  king  of  beasts  is  said  to  make  use  of  him  for 
his  menial  work.  Thus,  among  men,  the  great  little  and 
the  little  great  are  mutually  useful,  and  mutually  faith 
less  to  each  other.  As,  among  beasts,  the  strong  oppress 
the  weak,  and  the  crafty  weak  bjetray  the  strong — even 


CORRECTED       I' ROOTS. 

so  among  men,  each  takes  advantage  of  the  other's  as 
sailable  points  to  serve  his  own  ends,  and  effect  the  des 
truction  of  those  who  stand  in  the  way  of  his  ambition 
or  cupidity.  "  The  lion  may  expire  by  the  puncture  of 
an  asp,"  so  the  foul  breath  of  slander  and  the  wily  spirit 
of  detraction  tarnish  the  fame,  destroy  the  peace,  and 
mar  the  prospects,  of  the  really  meritorious  man. 

"  How  aptly  is  he  bell'd,  who  expects  fame  to  follow 
merit — a  fool,  indeed,  but  an  honest  fool.  Per  contra, 
how  justly  does  the  tinkle  mark  the  man,  who,  having 
turned  the  merits  of  his  cotemporary  to  his  own  advance 
ment,  and  clapped  the  wreath  upon  his  own  head  which 
should  have  been  worn  by  another,  imagines  that  he  can 
believe  his  flatterers,  and  cheat  himself  into  an  opinion 
that  he  is  indeed  what  they  represent  him.  A  knavish 
fool  !  He  knows  better — and  he  has  the  glitter  without 
the  gold  for  his  pains — the  shadow  without  the  substance. 
lie  is  for  a  while  distinguished,  but  not  happy — nor  is 
he  long  allowed  to  wear  his  borrowed  plumes.  Like 
the  donkey  in  the  fable,  who  donned  the  lion's  skin — " 

Bah  !  I  put  the  fire  end  of  my  cigar  to  my  lips — started 
— and  lost  Asmodeus  and  the  rest  of  the  vision.  Since 
that  evening,  I  do  not  see  an  egregious  fool,  but  I  hear 
a  noise  in  my  ears  like  a  bell  tinkle — and  I  feel  tempted, 
like  Pat,  to  ask  him  if  he  too  does  not  hear  it. 


Mil     TIMORIS      DUMPS.  249 


MR    TIMORIS    DUMPS 

KEEPS  a  common-place  book — and  a  very  uncommon 
common-place  book  it  is,  I  assure  you.  Scraps  from 
country  newspapers,  pasted  in,  and  manuscript  copies 
of  such  items  as  the  following  : — "  Recipe  to  cure  the 
bite  of  a  mad  dog."  "  To  recover  a  drowned  man." 
A  dozen  prescriptions  for  cholera.  "  Bay  rum,  infallible 
for  rheumatism."  "  Mustard,  a  good  emetic,  and  may 
be  administered  in  case  of  poison,  before  a  doctor  arrives 
— dose,  five  large  tea-spoons."  "  N.  B.  The  apothecary 
at  the  next  corner  has  a  stomach-pump — to  inquire 
whether  it  is  in  order,  and  if  not,  to  volunteer  its  repairs 
from  my  own  pocket."  "  To  complain  to  the  City  Mar 
shal,  of  Mr 's  cellar."  "  To  inquire  of  Palmer, 

of  the  Tremont  Laboratory,  the  properties  of  chloride 
lime  and  chloride  soda,  and  their  comparative  strength." 
"  To  write  a  series  of  essays  for  the  newspapers,  recom 
mending  the  building  of  shaded  side-walks  for  Winter, 
to  break  the  fall  of  snow  from  the  roofs  of  houses." 
"  To  have  permanent  stagings  built  for  masons  and  car 
penters,  with  a  preventer  wall  of  three  inch  plank,  to 
save  bricks  from  falling  into  the  street."  "  N.  B.  To 
call  and  examine  Richardson's  Patent  Fire  Alarm." 
"  To  suggest  the  building  of  steam  engines  for  boats, 
with  a  five  feet  brick,  water-tight,  Roman  cement  wall, 
between  them  and  the  cabin."  "  To  get  up  a  petition  to 
the  Legislature,  to  have  the  speed  on  railroads  restricted 
by  law  to  six  miles  the  hour."  "  To  buy  a  specimen  of 
each  of  the  life-preservers  manufactured  by  all  the  India 


250  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

Rubber  Companies — must  be  attended  to  immediately, 
as  I  cross  a  bridge  once  a  week." 

I  forbear  farther  extracts,  as  they  cannot  be  very 
interesting,  save  to  Mr  Dumps,  and  will  give,  instead,  a 
sketch  of  the  man  himself.  In  the  Winter,  he  wonders 
that  he  has  a  continual  cold — but  nobody  who  knows 
him  has  any  surprise  on  the  subject,  because,  if  the 
streets  are  in  particularly  bad  order,  abounding  in  what 
is  significantly  called  splosh,  in  the  vernacular,  he  is 
sure  to  wade  through  the  worst  of  it,  longitudinally,  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  street,  to  avoid  the  danger  of 
being  buried  on  the  side-walks.  He  wears  caoutouches 
to  be  sure,  but  they  fill,  and  only  express  the  snow-water 
through  his  boots.  The  same  choice  of  path  causes 
him  as  many  narrow  escapes  as  there  are  aploxhy  days 
— and  as  much  as  one  knock-down  by  a  carriage,  per 
Winter,  as,  in  sealing  his  ears  against  cold,  he  seals 
them  against  sound. 

In  dog-days,  he  wears  beneath  his  pants  a  cow-hide 
case,  strapped  to  his  legs,  impenetrable  to  canine  teeth. 
In  the  building  season,  his  hat  has  been  stuffed  full  of 
waste  paper,  ever  since  he  heard  of  an  editor's  wonder 
ful  escape  from  death  by  the  blow  of  a  brick-bat.  All 
the  sugar  used  in  his  house  has  been  subjected  to  a 
chemical  test,  since  some  of  the  Down-Easters  were 
poisoned  by  Muscovado.  The  water  used  for  culinary 
purposes  is  all  filtered,  and  when  his  cook  boils  a  cabbnge 
she  cuts  it  into  inch  pieces,  to  be  sure  of  the  absence 
of  adders,  etc.  A  rope-ladder  is  coiled  beneath  his 
chamber  window,  duly  fastened  to  two  staples,  and  all 
his  valuables  are  nightly  packed  in  a  fire-proof  chest. 
His  assortment  of  medicines  and  preventives  has  deter 
mined  an  apothecary's  apprentice  who  spends  half  his 


MR      TIMORIS      DUMPS.  .        251 

time  i:i  putting  them  up,  to  wait  till  he  can  buy  at  auc 
tion  the  medicine-chest  of  the  late  Mr  Dumps,  before 
he  sets  up  in  business  for  himself. 

Of  newspapers,  he  patronises  those  which  publish  the 
most  horrible  accidents,  providential  escapes,  patent 
medicine  advertisements,  and  obituary  notices.  His 
pressnt  standing  dish  of  trouble  is  the  French  war,  and 
he  has  purchased  the  last  surgical  work,  to  know  how 
to  treat  a  shot  or  sabre  wound,  and  provided  himself  with 
styptics,  tourniquets,  splints,  and  other  necessary  appli 
ances,  in  case  he  should  be  drafted,  and  compelled  to 
serve  in  the  militia.  The  necessary  sum  for  the  pur 
chase  of  a  substitute  is  appropriated,  labelled,  and  kept 
inviolate  in  one  department  of  his  pocket-book — and  he 
has  already  singled  out  the  man,  who,  he  is  determined, 
if  need  be,  shall  serve  as  food  for  powder,  instead  of 
Timoris  Dumps,  Esquire. 

A  more  supremely  unhappy  man  cannot  be  found  in 
the  world.  A  delightful  season  of  sunshine  torments 
him  with  the  fear  that  the  exterior  wood-work  of  his 
house  may  become  dry  and  inflammable — rain  affrights 
him  with  the  danger  of  miasma  from  stagnant  pools  of 
water  after  it,  and  with  fear  of  damps,  colds,  and  rheu 
matism,  during  its  continuance.  Spring  has  its  horrors 
of  unripe  fruit  and  vegetables — Summer  has  its  falling 
bricks,  malignant  disorders,  and  mad  dogs — Autumn 
its  peculiar  diseases — Winter  hard  times,  avalanches, 
and  consumption.  To  the  appropriate  fears  of  each 
season,  is  superadded  his  anticipation  of  the  critical 
periods  of  the  next. 

All  this  in  confidence,  my  dear  reader — I  would  not 
that  Mr  Dumps  should  hear  of  it,  for  the  world — but, 
entre  nous,  I  can't  say  much  for  his  wisdom.  "  Suffi- 


252  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

cient  for  the  day,  is  the  evil  thereof,"  and  one  might 
as  well  meet  all  his  notes  for  the  next  six  months,  to 
day,  as  to  borrow  all  the  trouble  he  can  possibly  encoun 
ter — and  more  too.  "  Hang  care! "  says  the  old  adage, 
"it  killed  the  cat."  The  man  in  trouble  is  not  such  a 
delightful  part  to  enact,  that  one  need  constantly  be 
rehearsing  it — I  warrant  we  shall  all  be  perfect  enough, 
when  the  time  comes.  If  you  must  dream  of  the  future, 
dream  of  something  worth  your  while.  If  you  will 
build  castles  in  the  air,  don't  take  Udolpho  for  a  model, 
but  some  airy,  pleasant,  modern  structure.  Leare 
physic  to  the  dogs  and  the  doctors — war  to  General 
Jackson — the  banks  and  hard  times  to  our  six  hundred 
legislators — at  any  rate,  don't  trouble  trouble,  till  trouble 
troubles  you. 


P  A  R  M  E  N  I O  , 

WHEN  he  was  once  greeted  with  an  approbative  shout 
from  a  multitude,  turned  to  a  philosopher  who  stood 
near  him,  and  said  "  Pardon  me,  I  fear  I  have  been 
guilty  of  some  absurdity  !  "  What  a  good  opinion  of 
himself  must  the  Grecian  have  rejoiced  in — and  what 
a  craving  appetite  for  adulation  that  sentence  betrays. 
Note  it  when  you  will,  those  who  profess  indifference 
to  the  opinions  of  the  world,  value  fame  highest. 


CONFESSIONS     OF    A    BASHFUL     MAN.       253 


CONFESSIONS   OF   A   BASHFUL   MAN. 

[The  following,  neatly  written  on  pink  paper,  rolled  in  an  en 
velope,  and  fastened  with  blue  ribbon,  was  picked  up  in  Congress 
Street.  It  was  supposed  the  author  intended  to  make  one  of  the 
newspapers  the  organ  of  his  confessions — and  the  article  was  dis 
posed  of  accordingly.] 

I  DON'T  know  what  I  was  created  for — really.  Let  it 
be  what  it  will,  one  thing  is  certain,  I  have  never  brought 
much  to  pass.  I  hate  the  bustle  and  crowding  neces 
sary  to  put  myself  forward — hate  it  for  the  exertion 
necessary  to  bring  about  distinction  ;  and  because  I  fear 
some  booby,  whose  sole  recommendation  is  impudence, 
will  step  in  before  me,  just  as  I  am  on  the  eve  of  reach 
ing  the  point,  and  thrust  me  aside  by  sheer  blustering. 
People  generally  imagine  that  your  bashful  man  is 
very  modest — there  never  was  a  greater  mistake.  Now, 
in  my  own  humble  opinion,  there  is  no  man  better  qual 
ified  than  myself  to  shine  in  court,  camp,  or  pulpit — to 
edify,  enlighten,  and  astonish  the  world — but  alas !  my 
light  has  ever  been  hid  under  a  bushel — and  why  ? 
Because  my  cotemporaries  never  had  penetration  enough 
to  detect  its  glimmer,  throw  aside  the  veil,  and  open  on 
the  world  its  lustre.  If  my  talent  is  hid,  it  is  not  be 
cause  I  am  unaware  of  its  value — far  from  it.  As  I 
have  said  before  of  bashful  people  in  general,  so  I  say 
of  myself  in  particular,  I  am  one  of  the  most  self-suffi 
cient  mortals  in  being.  Mauvaise-honte  is  only  another 
name  for  pride.  Conscious  of  my  own  abilities,  and 
22 


'254  CORRECTED     PROOFS. 

rating  them  far  above  their  merit,  I  am  astonished  at 
the  lack  of  judgment  betrayed  by  my  fellows  in  neglect 
ing  to  bring  me  out.  They  know  not  what  they  lose  by 
their  neglect  of  my  talent.  If  I  do  not  thrust  myself 
forward,  it  is  because — in  addition  to  the  reason  laid 
down  at  the  beginning  of  my  sheet — I  conceive  it  due 
to  myself  to  wait  to  be  brought  forward.  The  world 
owes  me  its  notice,  and  I  am  determined  the  debt  shall 
be  paid  me,  without  applying  for  it.  What !  cannot 
Archibald  Encyclopedia,  Esq.xbe  treated  as  he  deserves, 
without  taking  upon  him  the  task  of  showing  himself 
up,  as  a  jockey  parades  a  horse  for  a  market  ? 

Monday.  Turned  out  in  tolerable  season.  Sundays 
so  dull,  for  a  man  too  bashful  to  attend  church,  that 
between  Saturday  night  and  Monday  morning,  I  become 
too  tired  of  my  couch,  to  sleep  late.  Looked  out  at 
my  window.  Would  have  walked,  had  it  been  a  dull 
morning — but  the  sun  shone  so  delightfully,  that  there 
were  thousands  walking.  Could  not  think  of  exposing 
myself  to  the  gaze  of  so  many  people — know  they  would 
all  have  been  gaping  at  so  remarkable  a  man  as  myself 
— too  modest  to  endure  all  the  notice  which  would  have 
been  taken  of  me — concluded  not  to  go  out.  (Confound 
edly  provoked  that  nobody  had  asked  me  to  walk  on  the 
day  before.  Recollected  that  I  saw  nobody — wondered 
that  nobody  had  hunted  me  out.  Astonished  that  peo 
ple  won't  run  after  a  man  who  runs  away  from  them.) 
Took  up  the  morning  paper.  Looked  over  the  mar 
riages — came  near  fainting — nobody  in  sight — deter 
mined  not  to  go  to  that  trouble,  for  if  I  fainted  without 
witnesses,  the  circumstance  could  not  IK-  reported. 
Wondered  how  Miss  Amanda ,  could  ha\<>  married 


CONFESSIONS     OF    A    BASHFUL     MAN.       255 

that  booby,  Henry ,  when  she  must  have  known  I 

liked  her.  Never  told  her  so  to  be  sure  ;  but  she  might 
have  made  advances  herself — she  knows  I  am  very 
modest — but  very  accomplished,  and  an  excellent  man 
for  a  husband  altogether.  Heigho  !  well,  if  such  a  re 
markable  man  as  Archibald  Encyclopedia  cannot  get  a 
wife  without  asking — why — he  will  do  without  one. 
Some  lady  or  other  will  be  a  tremendous  loser,  that's  a 
fact.  Strange  they  should  be  so  blind  as  not  to  per 
ceive  the  merit  of  a  man  who  never  displayed  any. 

Read  the  advertising  page — pretty  well,  too  !  That 
impudent  doughface,  Peter  Superficial,  appointed  Cash 
ier  of  the Bank  !  Should  have  liked  the  birth 

myself — but  because  I  did  not  apply,  modest  merit  was 
overlooked.  Am  an  excellent  accountant — singular 
that  the  fact  could  not  have  leaked  out,  without  my 
announcing  it.  Well,  well,  Peter  has  the  advantage  of 
me  this  time,  by  blowing  his  own  trumpet.  I,  forsooth, 
a  better  penman,  accountant,  &,c.  than  he  is,  have  lost 
the  birth  because  nobody  knew  I  wanted  it,  and  nobody 
took  pains  to  inquire  whether  I  was  fit  for  it  or  not. 

Literary  Notices.  Let's  see.  "  A  dissertation  on 
the  materials  of  which  Babel  was  built,  together  with 
incidental  remarks  upon  the  different  cements  in  use 
for  building,  from  the  date  of  the  erection  of  the  Chi 
nese  Wall  to  the  present  time.  By  Simon  Trowel, 
A.  B."  Simon  Trowel  an  author  !  A  good  one  !  What 
fools  the  publishers  are  !  Why,  I  am  authority  upon 
all  matters  of  antiquity  ;  if  a  work  of  this  kind  was 
called  for,  why  was  I  not  requested  to  write  it  ?  I  can 
dilate  on  all  subjects,  from  the  natural  history  of  the 
tenants  of  Noah's  ark,  down  to  the  anatomy  of  a  mod- 


256  CORRECTED      PROOFS. 

ern  flea,  or  a  dissertation  on  the  social  habits  and  in 
tellectual  traits  of  a  lobster  or  craw  fish.  I  can  retail 
all  the  court  scandal  of  the  days  of  dueen  Semiramis ; 
give  you  the  statistics  of  the  revenue  and  treasures  of 
King  Croesus,  and  account  chemically  and  philosophi 
cally  for  the  process  by  which  Midas  turned  all  he 
touched  to  gold.  To  be  sure,  I  have  no  acquaintance 
with  Pica,  Minion  &L  Co.,  the  publishers,  but  they 
might  have  known  I  could  write,  by  my  countenance, 
my  habits,  general  appearance,  and  extraordinary  eru 
dition  !  If  the  world  wishes  me  to  enlighten  it — I  must 
be  applied  to — that's  all.  /shall  not  court  the  favor  of 
those  whose  duty  it  is  to  worship  my  talents. 

Ten  o'clock.  Saw  some  callers  coming  up  the  ave 
nue.  Bolted  to  my  garret — took  down  Cicero's  Ora 
tions — could  not  read — because  I  was  mentally  per 
suaded  the  call  was  intended  for  me.  Saw  them  off — 
went  down — astonished  upon  learning  that  my  name 
had  not  been  mentioned.  Mother  informed  me  that 
her  brother,  a  captain,  had  returned,  not  "  from  the 
wars,"  but  from  India,  and  would  dine  with  us.  Tried 
to  beg  off  from  dining  with  the  family — plead  sickness 
• — old  folks  would  not  listen.  Argued  that  I  was  not  in 
trim  to  see  company— mother  relented — but  father  pro 
tested  he  would  stand  no  such  nonsense.  Obliged,  per 
force,  to  promise  attendance. 

Dinner,  An  amphibious  monster  that  captain  uncle 
of  mine.  Sports  tremendous  whiskers,  and  wears  a 
choppa.  Wants  a  supercargo.  Wonder  he  had  not 
offered  me  a  recommendation  to  his  owners.  He  es 
sayed  to  open  a  conversation — answered  him  in  mono 
syllables.  Think  this  maratime  life  does  not  require 


CONFESSIONS     OF    A    1)  .1  S  II  F  U  L     MAN.       257 

such  a  vast  deal  of  experience  to  qualify  one.  Might 
make  a  ship-master.  A  booby,  that  captain,  to  direct 
all  his  conversation  to  my  brother  and  not  notice  me, 
older  and  better  informed  as  I  am.  Sat  still  and  held 
my  tongue  from  sheer  rage.  (Heard  my  mother  impute 
it  to  modesty.} 

Evening.  Attended  the  lyceum.  Heard  Arthur 

E support  the  affirmative  of  the  question  before  the 

meeting.  Determined  to  answer  him.  Audience  ap 
parently  very  much  pleased  with  his  argument — broke 
out  into  open  applause.  Disgusted  with  their  lack  of 
judgment,  in  applauding  what  I  considered  abominable 
nonsense — resolved  not  to  throw  pearls  before  swine, 
by  addressing  so  wretchedly  ignorant  an  assemblage. 
(My  silence  placed  to  the  score  of  modesty  again.) 

There  is  the  history  of  a  day  of  every  day  occur 
rences.  Upon  extraordinary  occasions  my  modesty  is 
still  more  apparent.  If,  reader,  you  are  not  yourself  a 

Bashful  Man,"  no  description  of  mine  can  convey  to 
you  an  adequate  conception  of  the  vanity  hid  under  the 
cloak  of  "  Bashfulness." 


22* 


CORRECTED        PROOFS. 


KEEP     COMFORTABLE. 

COUNSEL    FOR    COLD    WEATHER. 

TILL  the  commencement  of  the  present  century,  the 
head  was  a  sort  of  terra  incognita — unexplored  by  any 
save  messengers  with  more  teeth  than  tongue.  Now 
that  phrenology — 

Still  harping  on  that  theme! 

Easy,  easy,  dear  reader ;  look  back  to  the  head  line — 
keep  comfortable  !  The  warmth  of  rage  is  unnatural, 
and  of  no  avail  to  the  comfort  of  the  body,  even  in  cold 
weather.  Let  your  heat  be  from  without,  from  anthra 
cite,  bituminous,  Lehigh  or  Liverpool — but  keep  cool 
mentally.  If  phrenologists  will  make  dura  mater,  ci- 
neritious,  and  medullary,  occiput,  frontal  sinus,  and 
half  a  hundred  other  heathen  terms,  household  words, 
how  can  you  help  it  ?  and  how  can  1 1 

The  Boston  Society  have  discovered  a  new  organ. 
They  call  it  OsUfciativeHess — and,  among  other  things, 
it  is  the  spring  of  fondness  for  society — large  in  geese, 
in  sheep,  in  crows,  in  men  of  gregarious  habit,  and  in 
buffaloes.  Cultivate  associativeness.  Avoid  solitude. 
Misery  loves  company,  therefore  do  not  freeze  alone. 
A  group  is  much  more  picturesque  and  interesting  than 
a  single  figure.  Keep  warm  hearts  about  you,  and  a 
good  fire,  an  easy,  animated  flow  of  conversation,  that 
your  tongue  chatter,  and  not  your  teeth.  Take  in  an 
interesting  periodical. 


KEEP      COMFORTABLE.  259 

Do  not  agitate  the  slave  question,  or  be  agitated  by 
it.  Have  to  do  with  nothing  black,  but  black  diamonds 
from  the  Schuylkill  mines  or  the  Peach  Orchard.  Con 
versation  about  slavery  will  introduce  the  subject  of 
warmer  climates  incidentally,  and  engender  envy  of  the 
very  class  of  people  the  abolitionists  would  teach  you 
to  pity.  What  do  the  slaves  know  of  a  thermometer 
fifteen  degrees  below  zero  ? 

Remember  the  poor.  A  fire  built  by  you  in  a  hovel, 
miles  away,  will  warm  your  heart,  and  warmth  of  the 
body  follows — a  warmth  most  agreeable.  Be  resolved 
that  all  the  misery  you  can  prevent,  you  will,  and  re 
solving — execute. 

Keep  your  feet  dry.  Man  does  not,  like  other  vege 
tables,  flourish  by  constant  irrigation,  Summer  or  Win 
ter.  Study  health  more  than  comeliness  in  the  adorn 
ment  of  the  outer  man,  but  never  altogether  neglect 
comeliness.  John  Neal  says — "  Dress  a  man  up,  and 
you  give  him  clean  and  new  ideas.  His  very  loll  is 
graceful  or  imposing;  and  he  feels  that  it  is  so."  I 
iterate  Mr  Neal's  opinion — let  the  voice  reach  you,  not 
as  from  one  having  experience,  but  as  from  a  sloven,  in 
warning.  Do  not  forget  to  keep  your  feet  dry. 

Shut  the  door  !  At  home,  for  economy  of  fuel — 
abroad,  to  escape  apocryphal  blessings.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  leaving  a  door  open  behind  you — you  may 
be  coming  back — so  is  Summer — but  there  is  a  chance 
to  freeze  before  the  return  of  either. 

Keep  a  clean  conscience,  and  a  balance  on  the  credit 
side  of  your  ledger.  Above  all,  pay  the  printer.  To 
read  a  paper  paid  for  in  advance,  is  pleasure  unalloyed 
— your  own  paper,  I  mean.  Stolen  waters  are  sweet, 


CORRECTED      1' ROOFS. 

but  newspapers  are  not  all  water,  though  some  are  milk 
and  water.  There  is  a  consciousness  of  leisure,  and 
an  I-do-not-care-when-I-get-through  feeling,  necessary 
to  the  enjoyment  of  a  newspaper,  which  a  borrower 
iriver  experiences. 

Avoid  such  out-door  recreations  as  sleigh-riding.  It 
is  barbarous  and  Lapland-ish.  I  never  see  a  party 
whisked  along  in  sleighs,  sitting  for  frozen  feet  and 
ears  under  Jack  Frost's  fingers,  but  I  think  of  a 
goose  whisked  through  a  fire  to  singe  off  her  pin- 
leathers.  Vhe  cases  are  antipodes,  but  extremes  some 
times  meet,  and  often  resemble  each  other.  There  is 
little  to  choose,  for  comfort,  between  freezing  and 
roasting.  Skate,  if  you  like;  "  coast"  if  you  are  boy 
enough  ;  throw  snowballs,  if  you  have  a  friend  you  can 
pepper  with  impunity,  but  do  not  condemn  yourself  to  a 
sleigh-riding  punishment,  unless  you  wish  to  do  penance. 
Think  of  it.  Packed  in  a  box — the  feet  still  enough  to 
stop  circulation  even  in  warm  weather,  the  bight  of  the 
reins  frozen  in  your  hands,  and  the  ends  of  your  fingers 
insensible.  Imagine  the  sweet  nothings  which  you 
drop  for  your  adored,  freezing  before  they  compass  the 
two  inches  between  your  lips  and  her  boa.  Think  of 
the  voice  in  which  you  must  bellow  the  amiable  to  be 
heard  above  the  sleigh-bells.  Cupid's  arrows  are  fragile, 
and  ill  calculated  to  penetrate  half  a  dozen  thicknesses 
of  fur.  Think  of  these  things,  and  do  not  sleigh-ride 
and  slay  comfort. 

Do  not  stand  out  of  doors  to  cheapen  wood.  The 
vender  always  has  the  advantage  of  you,  and  can  stand 
untouched  by  frost  while  you  freeze  and  thaw  again. 
What  you  gain  in  the  price  you  will  lose  in  the  con- 


KEEP      COMFORTABLE.  261 

sumption  of  fuel  necessary  to  restore  yourself.  Do  not 
cheapen  poultry — cheapen  nothing  but  ice,  and  never 
take  that  unless  forced  upon  you.  Keep  a  quantity  by 
you,  on  your  side-walks — it  is  charity,  inasmuch  as  it 
compels  sluggish  passengers  to  gymnastics. 

Build  no  fire  in  your  sleeping  chambers.  Plunge 
into  a  cold  water  bath  in  the  morning.  Parenthesis — 
I  would  have  nobody  tempted  to  commence  this  prac 
tice  in  the  Winter. 

Have  done  wishing  for  Spring,  and  it  will  come  all 
the  sooner.  Take  the  pleasures  of  Winter  as  they  pre 
sent  themselves,  and  do  not  forget  the  old  organ  with  a 
new  name,  associativcness.  Now,  having,  like  a  skilful 
composer,  brought  my  strain  back  to  the  same  note 
with  which  I  commenced,  I  have  done.  Keep  com 
fortable. 


ERRATA. 

Page  108,  twelve  lines  from  top,  for  beach  read  bench. 
Page  141,  fifth  line  from  bottom,  for  six  bells  read  four. 


A     000  100  860     6 


, 


y 


